


You can't live without the fire

by bramblesforbreakfast



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Curses, Dragon Riders, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Multi, Poisoning, also the violence for later chapters, explicit for later chapters, i'm really bad at this tagging thing, let me know if I missed something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-03-25 21:35:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 127,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3825880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bramblesforbreakfast/pseuds/bramblesforbreakfast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac did not know how he got where he was now. It had been a pleasant day, they had been out on horseback and Marius had talked about the ball to come, about Courfeyrac's old boots and that he needed a new pair of trousers if he wished to join him and his grandfather – the king – at the high table. And now he was standing on a clearing in the woods surrounding the castle, his calf hurting from the bloody gash the trap had inflicted on him and was facing four dangerous-looking men, wearing leather cuirasses and leather masks while their dragons had surrounded them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the gorgeous [art of batcii](http://batcii.tumblr.com/post/108543265313/did-someone-say-dragon-rider-aus-yes-they-did-it) and [several](http://dameferre.tumblr.com/post/108427147506/kiyala-replied-to-your-post-it-is-the-middle-of) [prompts](http://dameferre.tumblr.com/post/108428735661/kiyala-replied-to-your-post-kiyala-replied-to) on tumblr.
> 
> The title is taken from a song by Within Temptation called Iron.

Courfeyrac did not know how he got where he was now. It had been a pleasant day, they had been out on horseback and Marius had talked about the ball to come, about Courfeyrac's old boots and that he needed a new pair of trousers if he wished to join him and his grandfather – the king – at the high table. And now he was standing on a clearing in the woods surrounding the castle, his calf hurting from the bloody gash the trap had inflicted on him and was facing four dangerous-looking men, wearing leather cuirasses and leather masks while their dragons had surrounded them.

“Please, there _has_ to be a way how we can negotiate this.”, stuttered Marius while the tallest of the men motioned to one of his companions and said in a by the leather mask muffled voice: “Cuff him.”

“You don't know who you are challenging here, you stupid cowards!”, warned Courfeyrac and stepped forward, feeling the sharp pinch of a blade between his shoulder blades immediately.

“And gag this one.”, ordered the tallest, motioning to Courfeyrac, “He talks too much.”

“You don't know who you are kidnapping here.”, warned Courfeyrac, anger boiling in his guts, “You will be hunted like animals if you do that.”

“Do you think we are not being hunted already?”, asked another person, a green shirt poking out under the leather armour, tousled black hair standing up from the wind he had been faced moments ago. The beasts were huffing in the undergrowth behind them, Courfeyrac dreading to look at them.

“You are criminals.”, he snapped back.

“You _make_ us criminals.”, said the man behind him while shackles closed around Marius' and his own wrists.

“So, who gets to take our plunder?”, chuckled the one in the green and nudged the tallest.

“Bahorel.”, ordered the man and nodded to the guard behind Courfeyrac, “Let's go. We've been here far too long.”, he warned then and turned around, striding with long steps to the tall, lean, red dragon waiting by the edge of the clearing, raising a leg obedient to help her rider up onto the saddle on her back.

“Come on, arsehole.”, grumbled the guard called Bahorel and tugged at Courfeyrac's shackles while he pushed Marius hard towards the largest dragon Courfeyrac had ever seen, “Time to go, Your Highness.”

He spat the title in disgust and the two men who had not yet left – the green shirted and one wearing a crumpled cap – chuckled amused about Marius stumbling towards the gigantic animal.

The dragon watched them warily. It was a huge beast and Courfeyrac had never seen the likes of it – not even as First Hunter of the kingdom. It was huge, its shoulder towering Courfeyrac by about a whole meter. It was of a bright orange and ruffled its feather-like scales threatening when they stepped closer. The dragon was long limbed and slender, the claws at the edges of the wings looking more like hands than claws and the snout was long like the beak of a bird.

Marius whimpered and Courfeyrac stepped back a step when the black eyes of the dragon turned to them and she hissed. The big, burly man with a neck like a bull – Bahorel? – stepped to her and patted her nostrils carefully, whispering fondly to her while his fingers were dancing over the scales.

Wind caught Courfeyrac's hair and he ducked when a shadow flew over the clearing. Marius and he stumbled back while the red dragon swung herself into the air. The tall man was half standing in the stirrups, the reigns held in one fist while the long, slender wings of the dragon raised them into the air, hovering over the other two dragons left.

“Hurry up!”, called the man and the dragon darted nearly vertically up into the sky, the man and the animal vanishing in the blue with incredible speed.

The two remaining men strode to a black dragon with the burly body of a race that was called badger catcher. Courfeyrac knew those dragons because he had hunted one down the week before. They were a type three dragon, came in black and grey and were usually to be found in dense woods. This dragon was a lean female, glossy black with blue sparkling eyes and a sharp cut snout, resembling the prey it hunted so happily more in appearance than in danger.

“Always bossing us around...”, muttered the man in the green shirt and used the raised hind leg of the dragon to climb up onto her back behind the saddle, the man with the cap gripping the reins and climbing into the saddle. He shrugged his shoulders and said over his shoulder to the one in green: “You know how uneasy he gets in the open. Need help, Bahorel?”

“Nope!”, called Bahorel who stepped away from his dragon and smirked, “I've convinced Lamia to not eat them so now we should be fine. See you at home.”

“All right!”, called the man with the cap back and pushed his thighs into the side of the dragon, the majestic animal setting off a little more clumsy than the red dragon of the tall man, needing many more flaps of her enormous wings to leave the ground and rise over the trees than the red one. It was an earth-dragon after all.

Bahorel tugged something out of a saddle bag and threw it over Courfeyrac and Marius who nearly collapsed under the weight of the chain net. Marius squeaked and Courfeyrac started protesting, but the dragon came towards them, glowering. He ducked and dragged Marius behind his back, ready to protect the prince with his life. Bahorel laughed.

“Unless you want to be sliced into pieces by her claws, I would hold still.”, he said and swung himself into the saddle with ease, not using the offered leg of his dragon. If Courfeyrac wouldn't know better he thought that the dragon nearly rolled her eyes about that little show but she couldn't, of course, she was just a dragon.

The wind from the wings of the – judging from the wingspan and height of the animal – type four dragon threw them off their feet while Bahorel laughed again. The dragon rose, then grabbed the chain net and started dragging.

Courfeyrac saw their chance to escape, because the net lay only loosely over them, the dragon would lift it off, they could run, Bahorel would not be able to follow them on dragonback through the trees, they would flee. But the dragon caught onto a rope and the chain net tightened at the bottom and up they went.

Marius clawed his fingers into Courfeyrac's arm while they were swooped off the ground and dangled in the air, rising ever faster into the evening sky while Bahorel leaned down to see if they were still trapped and laughed when he saw Marius' wide eyes and Courfeyrac's pale face. After passing the tree tops, the dragon sped towards the distant outline of the mountain ridge at the borders of the kingdom. Marius groaned and Courfeyrac struggled to turn to him.

“Are you all right?”, shouted Marius over the noise of the wind in their ears before Courfeyrac could say something.

“Of course, how are you?”, he shouted back.

Marius scowled and pinched his arm like he always did when he was about to reprimand Courfeyrac.

“You were hurt, idiot, I saw the blood. How is your leg?”, scolded Marius and motioned to Courfeyrac's left leg, dangling out of the net, a few splatters of blood colouring the white stockings he wore.

“It's but a scratch!”, said Courfeyrac and waived all concerns off, “We should better worry about what's going to happen to you...”

“To us!”

“I'm not as important as you!”

“And that's not true!”, shot Marius back and glared at Courfeyrac, brooking no argument.

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes and struggled against the net a little to get into a little more comfortable position.

“I know my place.”

“You're my best friend.”

“I'm your _only_ friend.”, smiled Courfeyrac and nudged Marius friendly while the prince rolled his eyes this time.

“Where do you think they're taking us?”, asked Marius and wrapped one hand around one of the chains to stabilize himself.

“It will be definitely no spa-holiday.”, sighed Courfeyrac and narrowed his eyes while the mountains came ever closer, “But it could be a skiing trip to a log hut in those mountains.”

Marius shook his head about Courfeyrac who did not even loose his quirky sense of humour in the face of the threat they were facing right now. And that was what Marius liked about him. If Courfeyrac would not be as positive as he was, Marius would have probably flipped out by now.

After a few more moments, the mountains were so close that Courfeyrac feared his foot would hit one of the tops. The dragon manoeuvred majestically through the air and was heading towards a vast mountain that looked like its top had been ripped off, leaving a topless pin. The dragon descended further and further until Courfeyrac saw a crack in the surface of the pin where the dragon was heading. Hoovering over the crack, Bahorel looked down and gave commandos to the dragon who was slowly and with a lot of flapping descending into the crack.

Courfeyrac and Marius could not believe their eyes as they passed the crack and found themselves in a dome-like cave within the mountain, flickering electric light flooding the vast space in which they were still descending. Courfeyrac could see the red and the black dragon by the side of what seemed to be the landing space, the red one proudly sitting on her hind legs, chest puffed out, neck long, head cocked while the black female lay on her belly, legs crossed, head placed on them, close to nodding off.

When the chain net hit the ground and the dragon above them let go, both dragons looked interested and the black one even licked her lips. Courfeyrac shuddered and thought about the cow they had seen a type two dragon had killed a few days ago: guts ripped out and scattered over the space of four square meters and wondered if those men would let the dragons eat him and only keep Marius as hostage.

Hands closed around the chain net while the orange type-four dragon landed in the back of the cave and Bahorel slid down. Courfeyrac looked up when the weight was lifted from him and saw the man in the green shirt loosen the net from them. He did not wear the flight-mask anymore and smiled wickedly at Courfeyrac.

He was barely older than himself, had the shadow of a dark beard on his cheeks and chin and a nose that looked like having been broken multiple times. His green eyes were glinting mischievously under too dense eyebrows and his hair was a mess of untamed, black curls springing around his face. In other circumstances, Courfeyrac could imagine that he was a good man to have a drink and a laugh with.

“Look at our little birdies, all scared by the big, bad net!”, pouted the man and laughed while Courfeyrac growled at him.

“Stop talking crap, Grantaire.”, commanded the tall man striding towards them again while his dragon straightened up even more now that her rider was around.

“As you command, oh Fearless Leader.”, teased the man obviously called Grantaire and dropped a curtsey to the tall man who glowered at him.

“Feuilly”, snapped the tall man and the fourth of their captivators came forward after patting his dragon's black snout, “You get those two to the cells. And lock them up properly.”

Feuilly, the man with the cap which was now wedged under his arm, came forward and seemed horrified while he watched the tall man cross his arms slowly and in a slightly threatening way.

“Enjolras, you don't mean...?”, stuttered Feuilly and went white as a sheet, his freckles standing out against the pale skin under the flock of ginger hair.

“What do you think we have the chains for if we never use them?”, snapped Enjolras, seemingly growing tired of the reluctance of his companions.

“I thought for nice little sex games...”, mock-sighed Grantaire and crossed his arms, leaning against Bahorel's upper arm who had stepped to the group now, chuckling about the remark of the shorter man.

“Shut up, you idiot!”, snapped Enjolras and glared threatening at Grantaire who just chuckled and raised his hands to fend off the anger of the blond man who was actually looking even more gorgeous with dangerously glinting blue eyes, his sharp cut face with the high cheekbones and angelic features nearly glowing in the raw light of the flickering electric lights.

“If you're done discussing how to detain us, could we please go on and figure out what you want?!”, asked Courfeyrac a little too cheeky because the threatening eyes were now glinting at him.

“No one was talking to you.”, snapped Enjolras and stepped towards him, Marius taking a step back behind Courfeyrac while Enjolras was towering over Courfeyrac. He was looking up in the blue eyes, not flinching, unblinking. He saw that Enjolras was used to people backing down from that stare and there was a short second of insecurity flinching over his face.

“Well, if you wouldn't be shouting that much, I wouldn't have mistaken you _not_ talking to me.”, stated Courfeyrac in a very calm voice and saw the redness rise in Enjolras' face about his tone, “If you want to lead, you clearly need to work on your managerial qualities. Less shouting, more guidance.”

“Careful, Hunter.”, snarled Enjolras, his eyes glinting dangerous, his face red from anger.

“I've only just started, Goldilocks.”, grinned Courfeyrac while Enjolras opened his mouth to snap at him again when a shape darkened the opening of the cave.

Enjolras looked up as well as the others. The most humongous dragon glided through the air down into the cave. Courfeyrac was not sure whether it was a female or male dragon but nevertheless he was totally in awe. The dragon had the physique of a humongous panther, the scales were midnight blue with darker and lighter specks lingering all over the muscular body. There where hints of gold glinting while the dragon landed smoothly, intelligent eyes scanning the little assembled crowd while it lifted a leg to help the rider slide down the muscular paw to the ground.

He was tall, maybe as tall as Enjolras, but stronger built. His shoulders were wider and more toned than Enjolras' and his shoulder-to-waist-ratio made Courfeyrac's mouth go dry. He kept striding towards them with long, forceful steps and dragged the leather mask from his head while approaching them. And if Courfeyrac had had troubles with his shoulder-to-waist-ratio and his ridiculously sexy long and finely toned legs, he was utterly lost now.

That dragon rider was the most gorgeous, most beautiful and definitely sexiest man Courfeyrac had ever seen and he had lived at the court for at least four years now. His skin was the colour of caramel, his eyes were of the colour of ebony and his hair – trimmed to a fashionable and absolutely perfect undercut – looked so soft in the light of the flickering bulbs that Courfeyrac's fingers twitching from the urge to run through that hair. His heart was speeding and he did not really know that his mouth was standing agape until Grantaire pushed it shut with one finger.

“Tell me this is not true!”, half whined the new arrival as he approached Enjolras, “Tell me you _didn't_ kidnap the heir to the throne and his...”, the man turned to Courfeyrac and he felt how he blushed and was staring with wide eyes while the rider looked him up and down once, raised eyebrows, blank face. He dragged a pair of glasses out of his trousers and put them on, looked at Courfeyrac again and continued with a short shake of the head, “His man-servant!”

Courfeyrac nearly chocked on the wrong title and spat: “Excuse me?!”

Everyone was turning to Courfeyrac now – Enjolras infuriated, the sexy new arrival surprised, Grantaire close to tears from biting back laughter, Feuilly and Bahorel annoyed and Marius terrified – who was staring at the new arrival. He raised his eyebrows and said: “I am _not_ a man-servant. I am Courfeyrac, First Hunter of the realm and whipping boy of his Majesty Marius the First.”

The man was looking at him for a moment longer, then he turned to Enjolras again and asked: “Didn't we agree on a more moderate approach to this, Enj? Didn't we talk about talking to his Highness first and not just kidnapping him? What happened to more moderate, less threatening?”

“And where did us get this approach?”, asked Enjolras heated and straightened up in front of the new arrival, “We are hiding away in a mountain, Romeo and Lucky haven't been out in two months for they're top of the black list and we can not show our faces in public ever again because of this system, because of their superficiality. I think we are past the point of talking. We need to act!”

“This goes too far, Enjolras. Nobody should be hurt by our actions.”, said the new arrival calmly and watched Enjolras glare at him surprised, then gesturing at Courfeyrac and Marius.

“Are they hurt? Do they look to you like they are hurt?”, asked Enjolras and stared the man down, “Because they aren't. We didn't do anything to them.”

“That doesn't look like nothing, Enj.”, said the new arrival and pointed at Courfeyrac's leg where the blood slowly dried on the gash.

“That was not us!”, protested Enjolras and motioned in an annoyed gesture to Courfeyrac, “It's not my fault if he's too dull to look out for traps!”

“Hey!”, exclaimed Courfeyrac and intended to step towards the blond man, but Marius clawed his hand into his velvet doublet and held him back, motioning with his chin towards the red dragon in the background who had gotten up when Courf had made a threatening move towards her rider. Courfeyrac glared at the beast but backed down, turning back to the argument in front of him.

“It really wasn't our fault!”, cut in Feuilly, “It wasn't even planned. We went out to empty the traps and when Swoboda landed, his horse reared up and threw him onto the trap.”

The gorgeous rider examined Feuilly's face thoroughly who did not look away until he got asked: “Really?!”

Grantaire groaned and nodded exaggerated while he nearly chanted: “Yes, he's telling the truth! Did Feuilly ever lie to you? Can we _please_ lock those two up now and go on to get some wine?!”

Both the new rider and Enjolras were shooting reprimanding glances at Grantaire – although Enjolras' look was just a little bit more venomous than from his companion – but Bahorel laughed and stepped forward, hinting a bow at Enjolras.

“I'm with R and volunteer to take them to the cell until we know what to do with them... My suggestion by the way: Swoboda and Lamia are almost always hungry!”, grinned Bahorel mischievously while Marius paled. Bahorel laughed even more but grabbed Courfeyrac's elbow to lead him away.

“And please have Joly check on his leg!”, called the rider after them and hesitated in the dome-like cave while Enjolras, Grantaire and Feuilly blundered to a tunnel to their left, followed by the black badger catcher and Enjolras' red dragon. Courfeyrac kept glancing over his shoulder, watching the rider watching them until his dragon nudged his shoulder with its snout, demanding his attention.

A few moments later, Courfeyrac and Marius had been locked up behind rusty iron bars in a very narrow cave, laid out with rushes and straw, like a birdcage. Courfeyrac kept standing, his hand curling around one of the bars while Marius slumped down on the ground, sighing a little resigned.

While Courfeyrac kept staring out into the tunnel – barely feeling his bloody gash – his thoughts lingering with the gorgeous eyes, the fine neck and the thin lips of the nameless rider, Marius cleared his throat and asked quietly: “Do you think Feuilly spoke the truth? About how they found us?”

“You mean how they _kidnapped_ us?”, grumbled Courfeyrac and sat down next to his friend and sovereign, “I don't know. All I can tell you is that that dragon... Swoboda? Swooped down and I ended up in a trap before they put us in shackles...”

“Could really have been an accident...”, mused Marius and rubbed some dirt off his trousers.

“Or just a well disguised attack.”, suggested Courfeyrac and leaned his head back against the stone wall. His leg started thudding a little while Marius asked: “What do we do now?”

“I suppose duck our heads and be quiet. We don't have much choice, I'm afraid.”, sighed Courfeyrac and put his hand onto his knee where a small spider tried to wander up his thigh.

Silence stretched on a little between them while Courfeyrac's thoughts returned to the calm voice of the rider that had sounded sweet like honey and soft like velvet. Courfeyrac smiled to himself about his sappy comparison. The superficial, romantic way of thinking like the courtier at court did started rubbing off. Marius shifted a little and stated carefully: “I thought they would be a little more... vicious.”

Courfeyrac laughed and winked at Marius.

“They had quite good manners for rebels, you're right.”, he agreed.

“What did you expect?”, interrupted a voice from the tunnel, “Three headed hydras and black winged gargoyles?”

Courfeyrac and Marius whirled around and found a young man standing at the bars, in one hand a leather satchel, a walking cane in the other, smiling wide. He was pale and thin, sleek brown hair with faint grey strands over an open face, dark circles under dark grey eyes. He was smiling even wider as the two prisoners set eyes at the dragons accompanying him.

There were two of them, flapping their wings over the shoulders of the man. They were tiny, the size of a thrush but the lithe bodies of lizards. One was slightly bigger than the other, its scales in brighter reds and oranges than the smaller one which was mainly coloured in dark red and burgundy colours. Their eyes were glowing in a warm orange bordering on amber while they kept gazing very interested at Marius and Courfeyrac, their tongues shooting out to test the air from time to time.

“I'm Joly.”, introduced the man himself, putting two fingers to his temple, waiving them at them afterwards, winking, “And these are my dragons Phoenix”, he pointed at the brighter one, “And that sweetheart here is Chimera. She might try nibbling at your ears. But don't worry, she means no harm. It's her way of saying hello.”

“You have two pixie fireballs?”, gasped Marius and was on his feet while Joly opened the bar-door and stepped into the cell, accompanied by his dragons who flew the most complicated manoeuvres in a breakneck speed to see almost everything of the prisoners at once.

“Yes.”, grinned Joly proud, putting his satchel down, “You know the race?”

“I read about them.”, confessed Marius fascinated and offered Chimera his lower arm to land on, “They're supposed to be the most gentle and friendly dragons alive. I've always wanted to see them.”

“Did you?”, snapped Courfeyrac bothered because Marius normally loathed the hours they had had to learn races, characteristics and dangers of dragons as boys.

“They're indeed friendly.”, smiled Joly while he awkwardly sat down, his left knee obviously stiff, “But try snatching Phoenix' food away and you'll see that they can be as furious and vicious as citron parachutes.”

The citron parachute was a class four dragon, nearly extinct and said to be the most dangerous, most cruel and wildest dragons alive.

“I keep that in mind, then.”, grinned Marius and allowed Chimera to sniff at his ear while Phoenix landed flapping wildly on his hair.

“Can I see your leg?”, asked Joly Courfeyrac then, “R said you've been hurt.”

“It's nothing, really!”, tried Courfeyrac to fend him off, but Joly just scowled reprimanding at him and tugged a scissor out of the satchel to cut open Courfeyrac's trousers.

“Ow.”, he sighed while he caught a glance at Courfeyrac's calf, lifting off the bloody cloth, “That doesn't look like nothing, my friend. On the first glance I think you won't need stitches, but I still need to clean it and patch it up in order to have it heal properly.”

“Do what you must.”, surrendered Courfeyrac and crossed his arms while Marius was still busy with the dragons who had taken an instant liking in him.

While Joly was cleaning the gash and Marius was playing with the dragons, Courfeyrac was watching the animals who he had been taught to fear and hate. Those two were – in a lizardy kind of way – actually quite adorable.

“How come you have two?”, he asked quietly, “I've never met someone with two...”

“Did you ever meet someone with a dragon before you killed the animal and put them into jail and bothered to talk to them?”, asked Joly with a crooked smile that was not really hostile, but not really comforting either. Courfeyrac couldn't hold his gaze and looked away, pulling his shoulders up a little in an attempt to shrug.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to be cruel.”, said Joly and smiled apologetic while he dabbed antiseptic onto the cleaned gash, “I guess that's what we're doing for a living. I help people and you kill innocent animals and put people into jail for living in a committed relationship with one of the most faithful, loyal and loving creatures on earth.”

“I got the message.”, grumbled Courfeyrac and flinched when Joly dabbed a little harder, “I just... I mean... they are dangerous.”

“Do they look dangerous to you?”, asked Joly and cast a glance over his shoulder to where Marius sat. Courfeyrac followed his look and saw what Joly saw – and what commander Javert would deny until his dying day. Marius sitting on the floor, Phoenix balancing on his knee, flicking his tongue through the air while his little front claws were wrapped around one of Marius' fingers while Chimera had wrapped herself around Marius' neck, nibbling at his ear very tenderly.

“You know...”, said Joly quietly while he drew out a clean, white dressing from his satchel, “I know you heard about Enjolras' speeches. I know you know them. Everyone knows them in the kingdom.”

“I've read that craaaaa...”, Courfeyrac swallowed before he could utter the word but Joly just smirked and carried on dressing the wound.

“It's no crap. Do you think he exaggerates when he says that dragons are not harmful or dangerous? Did it ever cross your mind that maybe your scholars are lying when they paint the dragons as savage predators without any compassion or feelings?”

“I... ehm...”, stuttered Courfeyrac and rubbed his neck while his thoughts whirled wildly, “How did that happen?”, he asked instead while pointing at Joly's leg, yearning to change the subject.

The young man smiled to himself while he was doing the finishing touches to the dressing. He glanced up at Courfeyrac and teased: “I bet a barrel of beer that you are right now thinking that a dragon did this!”

“I don't!”, protested Courfeyrac although he had a very bad concious about thinking whether or not Lamia or Swoboda were big enough to eat a whole human leg. Joly just shook his head smiling, fixing the dressing with quick fingers. Then he leaned back and smiled at Courfeyrac.

“A guard managed to cut all ligaments and muscles in the crook of my knee when I tried defending a boy and his dolphin-snout dragon pup. They left me in the woods to bleed to death and when I was finally found, the farmers weren't able to patch met back together properly. Ever since my knee remained stiff.”, declared Joly and shrugged, that happy little smile still present on his face although the memory must surely be painful.

“A high price to pay for saving a dragon.”, mused Courfeyrac and watched Joly's hands that were fastening the dressing carefully.

“A price worth it.”, corrected Joly.

Courfeyrac could not look at him anymore and watched his own hands, thinking that some of the guards in his command would still leave injured enemies or rebels in the woods to die although Courfeyrac had forbidden such practices. He felt bile raise in his throat and gulped hectically.

“I found Chimera when she was not bigger than my thumb. She was just a hatchling and her wing was broken. Phoenix swooped in and tried to defend her and well... one thing lead to another and so I ended up with those two. And why there are two... Jehan has this theory about having as many dragons in our life as people that truly really love us.”, answered Joly the initial question because he sensed how awkward Courfeyrac felt about the course of the conversation.

“So you mean...?!”, asked Courfeyrac and raised both eyebrows, clearly in awe of this lithe young man who obviously had more to him than the first look suggested.

“Bousset and Musichetta, the loves of my life. I'll introduce you to them at some point.”, smiled Joly and Courfeyrac had to bite down the cooing that would surely come out of his mouth if Joly continued to look so in love and totally happy.

“I'd like that.”, smiled Courfeyrac and wondered since when rebels were such nice people. Joly beamed at him and tugged his cane to his side.

“All right, keep the leg still... which won't be that much of a problem since you're being locked up... and otherwise... well, I'll come to check on you tomorrow. Phoe, Chimmy, we're leaving.”, said Joly and struggled up, swatting at Courfeyrac's hands when he wanted to help him, “Get your hands off, I'm no old man!”

“You sure walk like one!”, joked Courfeyrac but remained on the floor while Joly laughed and whistled through his teeth, his dragons hovering at his side at once.

“I'll see you tomorrow, have a good night. And don't let any dragons bite.”, smirked Joly and left afterwards, Chimera lingering a little longer to sniff at Courfeyrac's hair while his heart was beating double speed, his mind torturing him with images of the dragon setting his hair on fire or eating his nose. But she didn't. She sniffed, nuzzled her snout into his curls and set off then.

“They are amazing!”, went Marius into raptures as soon as Joly was out of earshot, “Did you see them? They were gorgeous and so careful and interested. Did you see how Chimera was gnawing at the hem of my shirt to test the ornamentation stitchery? She was so cute. And Phoenix is all like pretending that he's such a strong, brave boy but he really likes to have his belly scratches...”

“Are you serious?”, asked Courfeyrac and raised both eyebrows at Marius, grabbing his shoulder when he came to sit next to him, “I mean... it's one thing to be shy around girls but to seek for a substitute in dragons is just sick!”

“You're such an arsehole!”, grinned Marius and punched Courfeyrac friendly into the thigh, “You know I always were fascinated with dragons.”

“Yes and you got me to be First Hunter... which was the worst idea you ever had by the way.”, grumbled Courfeyrac and started massaging his thigh over the knee on the leg with the gash. There was a funny sort of burning there and he tried to ignore it as best as he could. Most likely the antiseptic ointment Joly had poured into the wound...

“I don't think so. Would you rather have been a normal soldier for the rest of your life? Inuring you by following dull orders without the possibility of own thought?”, teased Marius and smiled fondly at Courfeyrac who narrowed his eyebrows.

“You're right, I should be grateful for being First Hunter, wounded and locked away in some mountain while the rebels probably already think about the amount of ransom for you and what to do with my head after it was detached from my body.”, grumbled Courfeyrac and felt his head starting to hurt.

“You are such a pessimist.”, grinned Marius and leaned into him, “If they wanted your death, they surely wouldn't have tended to your wound. I think what Joly said was right. Maybe our scholars do exaggerate things a little...”

“So you think that burnt down village and the dead farmer and his family was just an exaggeration?”, asked Courfeyrac gloomily while the headache got more painful by the heartbeat.

“No, of course not.”, sighed Marius, “But I think... maybe we don't know enough about dragons... and their behaviour. Maybe we could, you know, learn about them here. Maybe we can prevent them from attacking in the first place when we know why they attack!?”

“Javert would behead you... prince or no prince... if he heard you talking like that.”, mused Courfeyrac and closed his eyes, feeling the world around him starting to spin slightly.

“Pft... Javert!”, snorted Marius, “He's still under my order and theoretically under yours too. He might be a fierce enemy of the dragons and the rebellion, but even he is a sensible and intelligent man. If he would listen and learn more, we could change things.”

“You're... You're living in a dream world, Your Highness.”, grumbled Courfeyrac who felt his heart speed up, the burning in his leg radiate into his lower abdomen.

“I'm idealist...”, chuckled Marius, “And I believe in the good in people... and dragons, for that matter. Swoboda could have swallowed us whole if she had wanted to, but she had not even made an attempt to threaten us. The scholars say each dragon is hostile and aggressive by nature. That was not the case with one of these dragons we saw today... I think we might be having a completely wrong picture about them.”

“We might, we might... _ah_... not!”, said Courfeyrac pressed, the burning and his growing headache turning unbearable. His vision was blurry and so he only half saw how Marius turned to him... and jumped in shock.

“Shit, Courfeyrac, what's wrong?”, he gasped and Courfeyrac felt Marius' cool hands on his cheeks but could not focus on Marius' face close to his.

“Don't... _ah_... Don't know... it... _ah shit_... it _burns_...”, gasped Courfeyrac, nearly unable to talk while the pain kept roaring through his organism.

He crouched down into himself and started shaking, sweat pouring from his forehead and over his spine. He only gradually recognized how Marius got to his feet and rushed to the bars, shouting for help. The pain got too much to bear and Courfeyrac zoned out until everything around him was searing black and burning pain.

 

:<∙>:

 

Cool.

It was cool for the first time Courfeyrac could remember. Had there ever been a time when he had not felt like burning alive?

His thoughts were foggy and he had trouble surfacing from the mist of unconsciousness and feverish dreams. He felt something cool on his forehead and a calm presence by his side. His eyes opened blinking while he could make nothing out but shapes and dim light. He closed his eyes again and tried turning his head.

For the first time he could move slowly without the sensation that his muscles were ripped apart by claws ablaze with fire. He sighed deeply once more, his lungs finally able to fill with air after being pressed by pain and tremors of his aching muscles.

Fingertips, cool and soothing, were taking the cool cloth on his forehead away and dabbed over his temples, his forehead and eyes. When the cloth was gone, Courfeyrac opened his eyes and finally saw clear again.

The person at his bed was gorgeous and he slowly remembered that he had seen him already, in a brown leather trouser and a flaxen coloured linen shirt under a leather cuirass ornamented with blue scales.

He remembered minor details, but not where he had seen him. There had been wrinkles all over his trouser from sitting in a saddle for a long time. There had been a dagger glinting in the shaft of one of his boots. There had been a steep wrinkle between his eyebrows when he talked to a blond man. He had come from heaven.

“Are you an angel?”, asked Courfeyrac, feeling that this question was stupid, but his brain not really able to comprehend why he was asking, why the question was stupid, where he was and what was going on at all. He heard the man chuckle and turn around, watching him with amused and soft eyes while he replaced the cold cloth on his forehead.

“Far from it, I'm afraid.”, said the man and smiled at Courfeyrac whose brain slowly started working properly again, “But I am happy to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

“Confused...”, confessed Courfeyrac and raised an arm to rub his eyes with one hand, “And... and... I don't know. Basically just tired and confused. Where am I?”

“You're in Grantaire's room. He offered to let us take you there so that Joly could have an eye on you.”, supplied the man with his velvety voice an easy explanation. The names triggered a memory in Courfeyrac and he suddenly straightened up, collapsing to the side because his system was not able to handle the rush of blood and adrenaline all of a sudden as Courfeyrac remembered.

“What have you done to me? Where's Marius? I swear, if you did something to him, I will...”, rambled Courfeyrac while he found himself in the arms of the nameless rider who had caught him before he could fall out the narrow bed. His heartbeat against Courfeyrac's cheek was calming and his warmth made him relax and allow the other man to put him back into bed, placing his head carefully on the pillow. Courfeyrac nearly whimpered when the man drew away.

“Marius is quite all right, I assure you. And we are terribly sorry about what happened.”, said the man and sounded distressed. Courfeyrac watched him sit down on the edge of the bed next to his legs, sighing deeply while he folded his hands between his knees, his elbows resting on his knees. He sat there for a moment, hunched over slightly, staring into the rushes on the floor.

“What happened?”, asked Courfeyrac again, feeling exhausted and still so confused, “I can't remember anything after Joly left. How did I get here?”

The man looked up and seemed so very sorry that Courfeyrac felt a pang in his chest. He sighed deeply and averted his eyes before he started explaining to Courfeyrac: “Dragons loath the so called flame root. It's a plant of the family of the root vegetables and grows in clearings all over this wood. The preferred prey of dragons... rabbits, small deer, mice, rats, squirrels... they all feast on those roots because they know no dragon will ever try to eat them when they are near the roots. So we set our traps there to catch the feed for our dragons.”

He hesitated a brief moment which prompted Courfeyrac to state: “I still don't understand.”

The man looked up from the floor and shot a quick look at Courfeyrac in which he saw concern and apologies that were not uttered but conveyed by those beautiful hazel eyes.

“If the juice of the flame root reaches the system of a dragon... or a person, for that matter... it acts like poison. When dragons consume animals who have eaten the root and therefore have the juice seeped into their muscles and changed into certain proteins, it will strengthen their ability to breath fire. For humans... well, if the juice enters a human system, it inflicts burning pains, muscle cramps and eventually heart failure on the victim.”, explained the man slowly, seeing how realisation dawned in Courfeyrac's eyes although he kept quiet.

“We assume that the whole quarrel on the clearing after you stepped into the trap might have damaged a few of those roots and the juice might have entered your organism through the wound on your calf. We... Joly and I should have thought about that... We are... we are _so_ sorry that we didn't see the symptoms earlier. We had to cut out the wound and stitch it up afterwards... If Marius had not called for us at once...”, said the man and his voice broke while he had to look away.

“How long was I gone?”, asked Courfeyrac and tried to straighten up on an elbow, which he slowly managed, “And how do you know all that? Are you some kind of a genius?!”

The man smiled humble and blushed but did not look at Courfeyrac while he choose to answer only the first question: “You were unconscious for the first three days. Then you were in and out of conciousness for another two days. Today is the first day you properly woke up.”

“So you saved my life?”, asked Courfeyrac and was horrified how soft and fond his voice sounded. He did not even know the man's name, he could not talk to him like that!

The man shook his head, finally able to look at Courfeyrac again, most fondly and relieved that he did not jump at his throat about learning that he had been poisoned.

“No, Joly did the main work. He's a very good healer. I assisted him and staid with you at night.”, declared the man and reached out to flip the cool cloth over, his fingers brushing over Courfeyrac's skin, raising goosebumps on his neck.

“I'm not that kind of a boy who spends the night with a man whose name I don't know...”, said Courfeyrac and had not really meant it to sound so suggestive... hadn't he?! He was smiling at the man at his bed and saw delighted how his ears turned slightly red as he rewarded the cheeky statement with a shy smile.

“I'm sorry, I think I missed the opportunity to introduce myself back when we first met. I am Combeferre.”, he apologised and smiled once more.

“Nice to meet you, Combeferre. Although I'd prefer to wear a little more than a nightshirt next time I get to be introduced to someone.”, he joked, only then recognizing that he was – beside a thin white linen shirt that reached to his knees – naked.

“That surely can be arranged.”, said Combeferre with a smile in his eyes and got up, “I think I'll go and get Marius. He will be delighted to see you up and joking already. He was worrying his head off about you.”

With those words he turned around and intended to leave the small room, but Courfeyrac – being his usual unthinking, rushed, boisterous self – called his name. And started to curse himself silently. His mouth had again been faster than his brain and Combeferre turned around, raising both eyebrows in a silent question at the patient.

Courfeyrac's thoughts were racing. This was not good, not good at all. Last time he had blurted out the name of a boy he liked, he had ended in bed with him two days later. He liked Combeferre and thought that he was the most gorgeous human being he had ever seen in his whole life and did not want to rush things or do things he would regret. Also, Combeferre was a rebel, an enemy of the house he had sworn an oath to and Courfeyrac was still a prisoner. This had been a bad idea and Courfeyrac felt the blush on his cheeks while his thoughts raced.

“Thank you...”, me managed to stutter a moment later, seeing how a small smile blossomed on Combeferre's face before he hinted a small bow and replied: “My pleasure.”

When he left, those words kept circling through Courfeyrac's brain. He could have said _you're welcome_ or _it's all right_ or _don't worry_. But he said _pleasure_. What did that mean? Pleasure was good, surely, that meant that Combeferre was not despising him. It would have broken him if such a sexy person would have despised him, that was for sure. But what meant Combeferre by pleasure? Was it possible that he had taken a liking in the clumsy First Hunter who had been capable of poisoning himself with a root while fighting with Bahorel and Feuilly? Or was he just an overly polite person?

Courfeyrac made a mental note to observe how Combeferre reacted in general to expressions of gratitude. Maybe he could figure out through an observation what Combeferre had meant. Shit, if that man would not be as gorgeous and sexy and witty and intelligent as he was, Courfeyrac would definitely not have such a hard time sorting his thoughts around him.

As it turned out, Marius had had a splendid time while Courfeyrac had fought a burning fight with a poison spreading in his organism. He bolted into the room a few moments after Combeferre had left, glowing from the beaming smile and accompanied by Phoenix and Chimera and another dragon Courfeyrac had not yet seen.

The dragon was as small as Phoenix and Chimera although built completely different. On the first glance Courfeyrac had thought that it was a swallow circling around Marius, a very large swallow with glowing green eyes and a snout shaped like a beak, tiny claws and even tinier grey-shimmering horns on its head while the front legs were joined to its wings. It was a magnificent flyer, making Chimera and Phoenix who were graceful flyers as well seem like plump little balls in the air.

“I am so glad you are awake!”, rejoiced Marius and flung himself at Courfeyrac, wrapping him up in a breathtaking embrace, “I was so afraid you would die!”

“You crush me!”, complained Courfeyrac but hugged back as well, glad to see his friend so relieved.

“Sorry.”, smiled Marius while a movement by the door caught his eye. Joly limped into the room, a satchel in one hand, his trusted cane in the other, whistling quietly to make Chimera take off again after she had planted herself in Courfeyrac's locks to nuzzle her snout into his ear.

“You look much better, my friend.”, said Joly and ushered Marius and the dragons away while the swallow-shaped dragon kept circling around his head in breakneck speed.

“I feel better. And I heard I have to thank you for that.”, said Courfeyrac and allowed Marius to stuff a few more pillows behind his back so that he could sit up easier.

Joly's face fell for a moment, Phoenix on his shoulder rubbing his little head against the side of Joly's neck to comfort and Chimera flapping over to sit on his other shoulder, sticking her nose into his ear as well. Joly smiled a little tormented at Courfeyrac.

“If I had paid better attention I should have seen the discolouration around the wound's edges. I should have smelled the bitter-sweet stench of the root. I should have known.”, apologised Joly and sat down on the bed after shooing off his dragons. Carefully he leaned forward and put his hands around Courfeyrac's neck, searching the neck for something Courfeyrac did not know.

“It wasn't your fault. I should have told you that the wound was still burning after you cleaned and disinfected it. Equal shares of fault, all righ?”, asked Courfeyrac and watched a small smile on Joly's face.

“All right, I can live with that.”, he murmured while he made Courfeyrac open his mouth and stick out his tongue, “Anywhere any burning feeling? Any discomfort? Any cramps?”

“Nope. I am fine. Little tired and a lot hungry, but other than that I am fine.”, declared Courfeyrac while Joly scooped up the cover and looked at Courfeyrac's calf which was not dressed in linen this time.

“We can help with that.”, smiled Joly and took a green ribbon out of his pocket, holding it into the air. The small dragon swooped down from sitting on Marius' head, clasped the ribbon with its snout and darted out of the room and away. Joly chuckled about Courfeyrac's surprised face.

“That's Prokno. He's Éponine's dragon. He's been trained to deliver small messages using the ribbon. We're letting her know that the patient is hungry.”, declared Joly and put the cover back down, patting Courfeyrac's thigh benevolently.

“Are all your dragons called like people from Greek myths?”, asked Courfeyrac astonished about the choice of names of the dragons.

Marius and Joly laughed while Chimera landed next to Courfeyrac's head again, rolling herself into a small ball and nestling her face back into his curls, giving a small humming-purring-grumbling noise that was really lulling to Courfeyrac. Joly watched amused while Phoenix remained on his shoulder.

“Not all of them but a few.”, he answered and winked, “Combeferre and Grantaire are the biggest myth and legend geeks you will find in the whole world and they came up with most of the names. Although Grantaire preferred to call his dragon after his favourite beverage: Syrah.”

“What's Combeferre's dragon called?”, asked Courfeyrac eager and saw how Marius hid a knowing smile before turning away. Courfeyrac scowled at the back of his head which made Joly raise a questioning eyebrow. Courfeyrac did not react but kept looking at Joly instead.

“She's called Parthenope.”, answered Joly and got up afterwards, “But I think you should rest a little more before your dinner arrives. It'll do you good.”

“I'm not tired.”, said Courfeyrac although the humming of Chimera was lulling him back and his eyelids started to flutter.

“Of course you're not.”, smiled Joly and Courfeyrac understood that this small beast next to his head had been trained and instructed to purr next to him until he grew sleepy.

“Unfair.”, he yawned while Joly clicked his tongue and Chimera ascended into the air.

“Not at all.”, smiled Joly while Marius turned to him and said he would stay with Courfeyrac for a while. Courfeyrac did not catch the reply because he was starting to drift back to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Courfeyrac was recovering fast under the care of Joly and occasionally Combeferre. Marius would not leave his side anymore and even slept in the same room as him. He had been set free after Courfeyrac had gone into shock from the poison and had not been imprisoned ever since. He had met the rest of the rebels and seemingly found friends among them fairly quickly.

Courfeyrac kept pestering him about them during the hours they were alone. He learned that Enjolras and his ember breather Ruby were the leading duo in the group. Combeferre was his right hand man and second in commando. Then there were Feuilly and Bahorel with their dragons Swoboda and Lamia who built the executive force of the rebel group, went on scouting and hunting trips and drove the hunting parties out of the woods if they encountered one.

Jehan – a really shy young man who Marius had taken into his heart in an instant – was also part of this group although he and his female jewel hatcher called Ophelia seldom left the mountain. Marius told him that they had once barely escaped from the hunters and Ophelia had been injured badly. Jehan had suffered just as much as his dragon. It had nearly broken Ophelia to see Jehan physically healthy but mentally suffering. Since that incident Ophelia was anxious about his safety and did everything to protect him, which included refraining to go on patrol on a regular basis.

The second part of the rebels was lead by another duo which was made out of Enjolras' sister Cosette and another girl called Éponine whose dragon Prokno Courfeyrac had already met. They were the leaders of the rescue team who worked with dragon owners who had been set free after imprisonment and whose dragons had been executed.

Bousset – Joly's boyfriend – and Grantaire worked with wild dragons who needed – apparently – tending to as well as “domesticated” dragons. Their companions were called Syrah and Lucky, both female rough-necks with a lot of experience in field work.

Joly and his girlfriend Musichetta where some sort of medical-housekeeping-special forces part of the rebels. Joly had been trained a healer before he met his dragons and had kept working as one for the rebels, deepening his knowledge in dragon healing year after year. Musichetta had been a trained nurse and helped him where she could although she was now more specialised in dragon healing than human medicine. Her grey eel hunter called Marinaio sometimes came with Joly when he tended to Courfeyrac.

“And the most fascinating thing is...”, said Marius one afternoon when Joly had left, Marinaio and Chimera staying back to have their bellies scratched by Marius who was stealing strawberries from Courfeyrac now and then, “They all do have some sort of connection to the elements. Did you know that?”

“No.”, grumbled Courfeyrac who listened to Marius talking about the dragons in awe ever since they had gotten here.

“Marinaio for example... as an eel hunter... is a water dragon. Sounds strange, water and dragons, doesn't it?”, he asked and let the slender, longish dragon crawl up under his sleeve, pressing his eel-like body to his arm and poking his stubby face out of his neckline, “But Enjolras explained that it has to do with the environment they live in normally. Parthenope for example... you know, Combeferre's dragon? She's a water breeder because the race normally lays eggs close to ponds or swamps because the young need the moist air so that their scales can harden properly.”

“Interesting.”, said Courfeyrac in a little huff and took the last strawberry before Marius could snatch it to feed it to either Chimera or himself.

“What's wrong with you?”, asked Marius who then recognized that Courfeyrac was not as fascinated and delighted about learning things about dragons as Marius was.

“Nothing.”, said Courfeyrac sourly, “It's just that I'm going nuts about lying in this bed for two weeks now with you talking about _nothing_ else but dragons and people I have never met.”

“Sorry...”, said Marius a little downcast and Chimera flew up to rub her little face against his neck like she did with Joly, “I thought... I mean... sorry.”

“It's all right.”, groaned Courfeyrac and rubbed his face thoroughly, “It's just.... this uncertainty is _killing_ me. They're treating you like a friend, not like a hostage. What do they want? Why keep us here if they're not going to use us?”

“Sometimes you think too much like Javert.”, reprimanded Marius fondly and shrugged his shoulders so that Marinaio in his sleeve slipped and tumbled out of the sleeve with an indignant little hiss, “Why can't you just accept that they are in fact nice people? Maybe... maybe all that is needed to be done is talking?! What if they learn from me as much as I learn from them?”

“Which is?”, asked Courfeyrac and scowled at Marius whose face was glowing again.

“Well, for example that most of the fear is a misunderstanding!”, declared Marius and scratched Marinaio while he curled up in Marius' lap, “The so called attacks are no attacks at all. They are just trying to find their... Jehan calls it their completion. He thinks each dragon can only feel complete when they found their human. And vice versa.”

“Are you telling me you are feeling incomplete?”, asked Courfeyrac bothered and rolled his eyes a little.

“No.”, said Marius carefully and watched him intently, “But... you always say you don't know if this is the right way for you, the hunter thing. Maybe that's... that's because you haven't found your dragon!?”

“A dragon burned down my parent's house and killed them.”, said Courfeyrac angry, “I don't want anything to do with those beasts.”

“Look who's a bright little sunshine today!”, laughed a voice sarcastic from the entrance to the small room which Courfeyrac still occupied. He turned from Marius to the entrance and saw Joly entering, accompanied by Grantaire who had never come to visit him before although it was his room Courfeyrac was lying in.

“Be nice, R.”, smiled Marius and got up from the stool he sat on so that Joly could sit down. Courfeyrac was busy staring at the dragon who had entered with Grantaire.

She was a female rough-neck, Marius had told him that more often than he could count. Courfeyrac had imagined her as a small dragon, but in truth she was about the size of a grown up Shetland pony if not a little bigger, probably a type two dragon. She had emerald, glossy glinting scales covering her equine body while two cork-screw horns grew on her head and followed her broad neck down to the shoulders. There, a set of bright green, leathery wings were folded so that she was able to pass the door without trouble. The neck was covered with thicker, more robust scales which had given the dragon its name. Syrah had intelligent, black eyes which were scrutinizing Courfeyrac sceptically.

“I'm always nice, aren't I, Joly?”, asked Grantaire teasing and leaned against the wall next to the door, arms crossed, an unreadable smile on his lips. Syrah sat down at his feet, hind legs folded like a dog and kept staring at Courfeyrac who had to gulp down the nervousness about the bigger dragon.

“The nicest.”, snickered Joly with a roll of his eyes and approached Courfeyrac, this time not holding a satchel but a bundle of clothes and a second cane in the other hand. He tossed the bundle at Courfeyrac and put the cane down on the stool. “My friend, I think it's time you quit lazing around and get those legs of yours working again.”, he smiled and sat down on the stool then, spreading his left leg out in front of him to massage the stiff knee lightly.

“You mean I can get up?”, asked Courfeyrac and tore his eyes from Syrah who seemed to be rather amused about his staring – if a dragon could be amused, Courfeyrac thought.

“I would really recommend it. Musichetta meant that your muscles should be put to use again before they degenerate more than they already have.”, explained Joly and flinched a little when Phoenix sneezed and puffed a small cloud of smoke out of his snout. Grantaire laughed amused while Courfeyrac was staring mortified at the dragon on Joly's shoulder.

“For a First Hunter you're really a little too afraid of dragons to be of any use, aren't you?”, teased Grantaire but got in motion when Joly beckoned him forward. Before Courfeyrac could bite out another statement that would teach Grantaire a little respect, he caught Marius' pleading eyes and sighed, changing his mind and saying: “If you knew me at all you would understand.”

“Would I? I don't think a stupid coward is able to understand anything...”, teased Grantaire sarcastically while Courfeyrac blushed about the reminder. Those had been his words and he was ashamed of them after they had been so nice to him. Grantaire patted his shoulder consoling and drew away the covers, obviously intent on helping Courfeyrac first undress and redress then.

“What are you doing?!”, asked Courfeyrac a little shrill when he started to tug at the shirt he wore which would leave him bare beside the dressing around his calf.

“Come on, my boy, nothing I haven't seen before. I promise I'll not abuse you.”, smiled Grantaire and took the shirt of him without any further ado.

Courfeyrac drew his knees to his chest and slung his arms around his body while Marius giggled and Joly rolled his eyes smiling, covering them with a hand afterwards to give Courfeyrac at least a little more privacy. He handed clean, white breeches to Grantaire who tried to unravel Courfeyrac's limbs to get him dressed.

“Normally I have blokes pay me at least one drink before I let them undress me.”, grumbled Courfeyrac while he finally gave up and let Grantaire help him into the breeches, feeling that he was really a little too weak to stand and dress himself and wondered once more how close to a disaster this poisoning had been.

“Normally I don't undress unconscious boys moaning obscenely and sweating their shirts through without at least spending five minutes talking to them, but have you heard me complaining?”, asked Grantaire and winked which made Courfeyrac actually laugh. So not only Joly and Combeferre had moved him from the cell to Grantaire's room.

“So you're being the handmaiden of the unconscious then?”, he asked, understanding that Grantaire obviously helped Joly with harder work during the tending to patients because the young healer could not do that anymore.

“Grantaire, at your service.”, smiled the young man and helped him sit down after pulling on long linen trousers in grey. He knelt down and put on some stockings while a little silence stretched on in which Courfeyrac once more thought that he could really like all those people if they would not be rebels. After a few more moments, Courfeyrac was dressed in a white shirt and a black waistcoat and Grantaire helped him into his boots again.

“Right.”, grinned Joly and clapped his hands, making the smaller dragons rise into the air and Syrah raise her head, “Now that you're dressed, the finishing touch!”

He bent down and picked up the spare cane he had brought, taking it in both hands and presenting it like a sword to Courfeyrac who sat on the bed, facing him. Joly cleared his throat while Grantaire made trumpet sounds which made Marius laugh.

“Silence!”, ordered Joly with a small laughter, “This is really important!”

He turned to Courfeyrac and winked, then he once again cleared his throat and Grantaire started trumpeting again which made Courfeyrac roll his eyes amused.

“This is my lucky cane, Courfeyrac. I entrust it to your care. May it serve you as well as it has served me.”, declared Joly in a mock-ceremony and handed him the cane carefully. Courfeyrac took it with a grave nod and winked afterwards.

“He's had it on him when he met both Musichetta and Bousset.”, declared Grantaire and pretended to be in awe, “This cane is magical. Maybe you will find the love of your life with it as well?!”

“Shut up, R!”, laughed Joly and Phoenix rose into the air to fly an attack against Grantaire's head, rolling out of the nosedive only inches away from Grantaire's scalp. Marius, Grantaire and Joly laughed while Syrah snorted and Chimera watched annoyed from Marius' shoulder.

“Ready?”, asked Grantaire afterwards and caught onto Courfeyrac's arm to help him up. After a small nod from the hunter, he carefully dragged him to his feet, Courfeyrac feeling that his muscles had really lost a lot of strength during the long time he had lain in bed.

“Are you all right?”, asked Grantaire, his hands still on Courfeyrac, and he smiled at him, nodding. Grantaire might be pretending to be a sarcastic arsehole who enjoyed teasing and infuriating others, but Courfeyrac had caught a glimpse of the caring, fond young man that he obviously was.

“Small steps, please. And if you get tired, we're there, all right?”, asked Joly and got up as well, making his way out of the room.

Grantaire stuck to Courfeyrac's one side while Marius took the other. Courfeyrac blushed because he felt like an invalid with them guarding him like that. The three small dragons kept rushing through the air around their heads while Syrah trudged along behind them, keeping an eye on Courfeyrac's careful steps.

When they were about to round a corner, Joly fell back to talk to Marius as they had seen that Courfeyrac was relatively secure on his feet, using the cane a lot though. Courfeyrac only half listened to the conversation about healing herbs the two had when he turned the corner and collided with something warm, falling to one side from the impact.

“Oh my gosh! I am so sorry! I am mortified! So sorry!!!”, rambled a voice over him and Courfeyrac looked up into hazel eyes and a terrified face. Combeferre was holding him in his arms, the second time this week, as Courfeyrac recognized delighted, his arms shaking from the shock of running into Courfeyrac.

“No need to be sorry.”, smiled Courfeyrac and grabbed Combeferre's shoulder to pull himself upright again, “Nothing happened.”

“Sometimes Combeferre takes a few idioms too literally. For example swooping someone off their feet.”, grinned Grantaire and handed the cane back to Courfeyrac who was still holding onto Combeferre's lower arm, not really ready to let the gorgeous man go who still looked concerned at him.

“What's the hurry about, Ferre?”, asked Joly with a bright smirk and caught up with them, the dragons swirling excited through the air while Syrah tried to push past Marius to get to Grantaire, a little jealous that the young man was still hovering next to Courfeyrac.

“Nothing, really. I just wanted to get Musichetta that book we found about healing herbs.”, declared Combeferre, helping Courfeyrac to straighten up fully while his hand remained as a reassuring presence at the small of Courfeyrac's back, sending waives of heat through his body. Courfeyrac hoped that he wasn't blushing too much. He glanced through the corner of his eyes at Combeferre. The physical contact that sent heat waves through Courfeyrac seemed to come natural to Combeferre who was acting as if his hand on Courfeyrac was the normal natural thing in the world.

“Oh, she's back again?”, asked Joly and a beaming smile spread over his pale face.

“Yes, she and Cosette got in half an hour ago.”, answered Combeferre. Joly's face lit up like a torch and he squeezed past Combeferre and Courfeyrac, his dragons vanishing in a swirl of flapping wings through the air.

“Ehm... Courfeyrac, if you're all right, I'd leave you in the guidance of Grantaire and Combeferre and will check on you later. Fine?”, he stated, walking backwards, waiving slightly.

Courfeyrac was grinning and nodded slowly: “Of course, go on. I'm fine...”

“Thanks, Courf.”, smiled Joly and turned, limping away quite fast considering his stiff knee.

Courfeyrac cast his eyes down and smiled to himself. Besides Marius and his father, no one had called him _Courf_ ever. It was strange how much this small gesture meant to him.

“Grantaire, are you all right on your own?”, asked Combeferre and dragged Courfeyrac out of his thoughts, “I'll go get that book and meet you in the hall then.”

“We're fine, now that you're out of the way and we're not in any danger of being run over.”, teased Grantaire but stepped forward, nodding reassuring at Combeferre. Combeferre turned to Courfeyrac and looked into his eyes briefly, smiled a little and took his hand from his back which Courfeyrac resented more than being poisoned by flame root. He turned his head to watch Combeferre leave, his long legs striding purposefully into the distance, the muscles in his back working with every step.

“What did I say?”, half whispered Grantaire and nudged Courfeyrac playfully, “Magic cane.”

“Shut up.”, gave Courfeyrac back but let him help him the last few metres into a lager room that opened beyond the tunnel, not able to hide the smile on his face.

The room was vast, more a hall than an actual room. Electric light was buzzing at the walls and a small generator purred in one corner. Straight ahead, there were two tunnels leading further into the mountain. The left side of the hall was littered with tables, bookcases, stacks of papers, posters and leaflets. Mismatched chairs stood between the tables, on some even more book or paper stacks. Bahorel and Feuilly stood at one of those tables, bent over what looked like a map on a wide scroll of parchment. They looked up when Grantaire and Courfeyrac entered.

The other side looked more like a flat than anything else. At the far end there was a small but functional kitchen unit with fridge, oven, microwave and a coffee cooker, a vast working surface and a selection of cupboards and cabinets with different doors in different colours and textures. A slender woman with darker skin, almond shaped dark eyes and a bristly undercut was preparing coffee there. Adjoining the kitchen was a vast mahogany table – Courfeyrac gaped at that luxurious piece of furniture – with another fourteen mismatched chairs. Some cups and glasses littered the table but otherwise there was no crockery to be seen.

To Courfeyrac's right, adjacent to the dining table were various sofas, armchairs and oversized cushions littering the floor, accompanied by a big amount of coffee tables in all shapes and forms. There were more bookcases, a few magazines but also drawings, sketches and notepads flooding every smooth surface in that area and Courfeyrac recognized a known face between all the strangers.

Enjolras slowly rose from a worn, burgundy cushioned armchair and crossed his arms while Grantaire led Marius and Courfeyrac over. Ruby, Enjolras' red ember breather, had wrapped herself around the armchair, her head resting on the armrest to Enjolras' right and straightened up when they approached, a cool expression on her face even as Syrah patted over to jump over the armchair to get to another worn cushion.

Courfeyrac recognized amused that Syrah could have walked around the chair, flown over the chair or just walk around the other side of the assembles cushions, sofas and tables to get to the cushion. Instead the dragon jumped, swatting Ruby's snout with the end of her long tail. Gently, but the red dragon still jumped. As she sat down, Ruby shot her a venomous glance that Syrah returned with a flick of her rose tongue. Courfeyrac chuckled. It seemed that dragons somehow resembled the character of their human partners.

“First Hunter.”, said Enjolras and dragged Courfeyrac out of his thoughts, “It is good to see you up again. We were worried.”

“Fearless Leader.”, replied Courfeyrac and saw delighted how Enjolras raised an indignant eyebrow, “I think I have to thank you for saving my life.”

“You should thank Joly and Combeferre, we hardly did anything.”, gave Enjolras back but still nodded appeased.

“Well, you refrained from sticking a knife up my chest so you surely did something.”, grinned Courfeyrac and allowed Grantaire to lead him to an armchair next to Enjolras' and slumped down. To his surprise, Enjolras chuckled.

“We are not the barbarians your scholars like to depict us as. We help those who need help, regardless of their... profession.”, he gave back and sat down as well, Ruby settling down around the chair, her head in Enjolras' lap. Courfeyrac got aware of other smaller dragons around him as well as some other people scrutinizing him interested.

In the corner between two vast bookcases sat a slender man with long limbs and a longish face on a humongous cushion. He wore tight linen trousers in black and a saggy, wide knitted jumper in a pale blue. His hair was braided and pinned up in a messy updo at the back of his head. His attention was fixed at a book in his slender hand, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth while he twirled one loose curl around his left forefinger. Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow. This delicate creature seemed to fit more into the world of fairies or pixies than into this rough cave.

On the sofa opposite from them sat a short man, dark skinned and as bald as an egg. He had his head cocked to the side, one arm slung over the backrest of the sofa, legs crossed while he kept glaring through nearly back eyes at Courfeyrac as if he wanted to decide whether Courfeyrac was a threat or a delight. On the ground to his feet had settled down another rough-neck, just this one had the colour of ripe plums. She was missing half a horn that seemed to have splintered off in the past and kept watching Courfeyrac as well, although her gaze was less suspicious and more curious. Her head was cradled onto the man's foot.

Next to the young man sat another girl, pale, delicate, beautiful. She had long, blond hair that was dyed red at the tips. She wore plain clothes, resembling the garments of the other men, plain linen trousers and a shirt. A delicate golden necklace hung over her shirt and her hands played with the medallion attached to it. Her face was similarly fine cut as Enjolras' and in her blue eyes Courfeyrac saw the same determined and passionate expression as in Enjolras', a thing innate to the family, as it seemed. This must be Cosette, Enjolras' younger sister of whom Marius couldn't stop talking when he wasn't talking about dragons.

Cosette's companion sat with a straight back next to the sofa and kept nuzzling his snout into Marius' hand. He was a male dragon, another ember breather, but he was an albino. His red eyes were soft though and his white scales seemed to glisten in the electric light the bulbs cast. Marius was smiling at him and scratched his nostrils.

“Courfeyrac”, said Enjolras and smiled when he saw the first hunter tearing his eyes reluctant from the dragons that were outnumbering him now, “May I introduce you?”

Cosette sat up straighter and leaned over the narrow coffee table to offer him her hand. While Enjolras told him that this was his younger sister, Courfeyrac took her hand in his, turned the back of her hand upwards and leaned forward to place a gentle kiss to her soft knuckles.

“Delighted to meet you, Mistress Cosette.”, greeted Courfeyrac, remembering his upbringing and the courtly phrases he had been taught as a boy and which he had perfected over the years until he had become the fright of every mother-in-law and the delight to every girl – and boy for that matter – in marriageable age at court.

Cosette just laughed brightly while Enjolras snorted indignant and Marius cast Courfeyrac a warning glance. Courfeyrac could not keep himself from smiling as well as Cosette sat back again, pushing hair out of her face with one hand.

“This might work with these superficial girls at court, Courfeyrac, but I need a little more to be impressed... or wooed, for that matter.”, grinned Cosette and coaxed a laugh out of the bald man who leaned forward then to offer a hand to Courfeyrac.

“Smooth performance, my friend, I'm... whoops...”, started the man but missed the edge of the table where he had wanted to prop himself up on and nearly fell of the sofa if not his dragon had raised her head to place it against his stomach to shove him back.

“This is Lesgle.”, introduced Enjolras with an annoyed sigh and added while the man leaned forward to finally shake hands with Courfeyrac, “You have to be careful around him, he's a little...”

“Clumsy... scatterbrained... unlucky... Whatever you like. And they”, Lesgle waived a hand grinning at Enjolras and the other people in the room, “Say that it rubs off on the people around me.”

“It doesn't rub off”, added Grantaire who slumped down between Cosette and Lesgle, “He tends to drag you into every mishap he manages to create! And that can be life-threatening.”

“Shut up, R, you love me!”, smiled Lesgle and punched Grantaire's shoulder friendly.

“Not as much as Joly but you're quite all right.”, grinned Grantaire and Lesgle wrapped an arm around Grantaire's neck to rub his knuckles over Grantaire's scalp who just laughed.

Marius settled down on a floor cushion and crossed his legs, explaining to Courfeyrac: “That's the Bousset I told you about. Enjolras and Cosette stick to his real name: Lesgle.”

“Oh, now I understand.”, said Courfeyrac motioning at the rough-neck to Bousset's feet, “So that's Lucky then?”

“Yes.”, smiled Bousset and scratched her chin, “That's my girl. She has all the luck in this relationship. After I managed to break her horn, she kept an eye on me. She's my guardian.”

The softness and the smile in Bousset's face while he was talking about his dragon was warming Courfeyrac who had to smile as well while Bousset placed a quick peck on Lucky's nose. While he did so, the young woman from the kitchen came towards them, four steaming cups of coffee on a tray.

“Get out of my seat, Taire!”, she commanded sternly but winked when Grantaire made Bousset slide into the corner of the sofa so that she had space between Cosette and Grantaire.

“I didn't see a reserved sign on this, besides, this is the very centre of the freedom-for-all-people-movement, I am free to sit wherever I like.”, snapped Grantaire back in a good-hearted manner and snatched one cup from the tray.

“Give it back, that's not for you.”, barked the newcomer with a small smile and drew the cup from Grantaire's fingers to offer it with an almost shy smile to Marius.

“Thank you, Ponine.”, said the young prince and smiled full of gratitude while Grantaire leaned back with a knowing smile on his face, shooting a quick glance to Enjolras who just rolled his eyes.

“Courfeyrac”, said Cosette then and got his attention, “This is Éponine. I think you know her dragon?!”

“Prokno, isn't it?”, asked Courfeyrac and nodded a greeting at Éponine while she cast a quick smile at him, handing a coffee as black as night to Enjolras, “The small messenger-dragon.”

“Yes”, smiled Éponine and handed the last cup to Bousset, “That's mine. He's quite fond of you, I must say.”

“Did he tell you that?”, laughed Courfeyrac who could not imagine that a dragon and their human had that profound a bond that they could share such information without words.

“Of course not.”, retorted Éponine and took her own cup up to blow into the hot beverage, “I know him long enough to see when he's into someone.”

“Interesting.”, said Courfeyrac and a silence settled over them, more awkward than anything else because Courfeyrac felt once again like a dumb and ignorant child when it came to dragons.

“Dragons have a very good knowledge of the human nature, you must know.”, declared Cosette and looked up at her dragon, sitting behind her, studying Courfeyrac intently, “It's sometimes easiest to watch your dragon react to a person than to make up your own mind if you trust them or not.”

“Swoboda is particularly good at this.”, declared Bousset and cast a look over to where Feuilly argued with Bahorel about something, “I don't know what it is, but she's always able to tell whether the person is good or... not so good. If Swoboda doesn't like someone, you better just kill them right away.”

The group laughed but Courfeyrac was not sure how much of a joke this had been or how much truth it held. Courfeyrac recognized that Syrah got up from her cushion, raised herself into the air with a wind whirling papers and scraps of parchment through the air while she left towards the entrance of the hall. No one reacted to the disaster but Courfeyrac who jumped a little.

“It's good to see you up and about.”, said Cosette after a moment, realising that Courfeyrac grew a little awkward about the course of conversation and the dragons around him, “We were worried you'd not make it.”

“Always so encouraging, Cosette.”, giggled Grantaire and got a smack over the back of his head by Éponine.

“Says you!”, she chided when a roar from one of the tunnels made Courfeyrac nearly fall of the chair in shock. Syrah came rushing through the air, a piece of bloody meat in her jaws while Phoenix, Chimera and Prokno built the rearguard for the flight. A giant shadow chased them and Courfeyrac heard Feuilly yell: “Swoboda!” in shock.

Syrah flew a loop and came down behind the angry badger catcher while Chimera and Prokno tried to distract Swoboda from chasing Syrah. Phoenix was shooting small puffs of fire at Swoboda who snapped for him. Lucky got up and snarled threatening while Syrah landed and hid under the dinner table, knocking over some chairs.

“Swoboda!”, called Feuilly again, shouting through the whole cave so that the large dragon landed with a lot of flapping and a wind that tousled Courfeyrac's hair.

Bahorel reached up and caught the long tail of Chimera and plucked her out of the air, a hand closing around her jaws while she snapped for him, Phoenix darting off into the other direction to hide behind Cosette's dragon whose name Courfeyrac did not yet know. Ruby had gotten up as well and stuck her long neck under the table where Syrah defended the piece of meat with vicious snarls.

“Prokno, come here _immediately_!”, barked Éponine and the small dragon stopped mid-air, shot Éponine a guilt-ridden look and slowly flew over to her to land on her lower arm where she started chiding him in a low whisper.

“Grantaire!”, barked Enjolras who was on his feet now, “Get a reign on your dragon, right now! Feuilly, get Swoboda back to the dragon cave, immediately.”

Feuilly snatched the leather collar around Swoboda's neck whose head was ducked between her shoulders and who did not look at the young rider while he drew her towards the tunnel they had come from, chiding her with harsh words.

“Syrah.”, said Grantaire calmly but the hissing and snarling from neither Syrah nor Ruby seized.

“Ruby!”, barked Enjolras and Courfeyrac was astonished how well trained his dragon was. The red ember breather drew her head out from under the table and sat back up on her hind legs, looking at Enjolras through questioning eyes. He stepped to her and patted her long neck, praising her quietly. Then Enjolras turned furiously on Grantaire.

“How _often_ have I told you that you need to make her stop this food-stealing!”, snapped Enjolras, barely able to reign his anger which made his voice vibrate dangerously.

“Not often enough, it seems.”, sighed Grantaire and got up, walking slowly to the table where Syrah still crouched, the meat in her claws.

“You had one job, just this one job!”, retorted Enjolras and massaged the root of his nose, “I told you to make her stop this. This is dangerous. She gets enough food without stealing it. One day her whole recklessness will cause a problem.”

“She's only young, Enj, let her be reckless. No harm done here.”, gave Grantaire back a little pressed while the other people in the room kept watching them anxious – which Courfeyrac did not understand.

“Not now, but what about the future? We are a community, humans as much as dragons and we are not stealing from one another! I let the dragons have their freedom but when Syrah will not learn to respect the privacy of Swoboda or any of the other taller dragons, I will need to take necessary actions to stop her from harming herself or others.”, lectured Enjolras, getting a grip on his anger again.

But while he calmed down, Grantaire whirled around from his crouching position where he had tried to coax Syrah out from under the table.

“What?”, he snapped, “Do you mean you'll lock her up, Mr. Freedom-for-everyone? She means no harm, she just wants to play. All dragons fight for food, that's their natural behaviour. That's what they do in the wild as well.”

“But they are not in the wild, Grantaire, they live in a community with rules.”, held Enjolras against the arguments while he flexed his hands at his sides.

“Well, but maybe the rules are not fit for dragons.”, snapped Grantaire, “Maybe your brilliant rules are against the nature of dragons and therefore limit their freedom!”

“Oh shit...”, gasped Bousset quietly and Courfeyrac looked startled to him while Éponine's grip around Prokno tightened a little and Cosette shot a quick glance to her dragon and Phoenix, who seemed to stiffen as well. Before Courfeyrac could wonder what was going on, he got the solution.

Enjolras exploded: “Limit their freedom?!”, he yelled, his face turning red, “I am not limiting their freedom! We need rules to live together and if you and your dragon are too stubborn to follow them, then that is definitely not my fault but your _incapability_ to live like reasonable human beings or dragons!”

“You say I'm unreasonable?”, snarled Grantaire back, Syrah crawling out from under the table, the meat nowhere to be seen, “Who's the unreasonable one between the two of us, huh? You and your surreal believes in equality and the goodness in every person or me and my realistic approach to how fucked up this world really is?”

“That has nothing to do with one another!”, yelled Enjolras and Ruby nudged him a little, earning a light clap on the snout from Enjolras, her try to calm him dissolving into nothingness, “I am not responsible for your incapability of believing, of independent thinking and of committing to a cause!”

“And I don't want you to be responsible for me! I am my own person and you and the idealistic bubble you live in can go fuck yourselves!”, snarled Grantaire and marched off in a huff, hands curled into fists, face red and eyes glinting fierce. Syrah followed him on the heels, head hung and tail tugged between her hind legs, casting a sad glance at Enjolras before leaving.

“Fine!”, snarled Enjolras who seemed incapable of letting Grantaire have the last word, “Go and sulk if you want. I am still right!”

With those words Enjolras whirled around as well and stormed off into the other direction, Ruby following him after taking a deep breath.

After the two of them were gone, silence settled over the cave and Courfeyrac did not know where to look. Bahorel, who had let Chimera go again, strolled over to claim Enjolras' vacant seat and the slender boy with the book came to sit into the vast cushion next to Marius, putting his book on the table slowly.

“Well...”, sighed Bousset and scratched the back of his head noisily, “That could have been a disaster. But it wasn't too bad.”

“Not too bad?”, asked Courfeyrac shallowly while Éponine took a sip of coffee, huffing an amused laugh into her cup.

“That was _far_ from bad.”, commented Bahorel and scratched Chimera who was a little in a huff about the treatment from earlier, “You ain't seen nothing yet.”

“That was horrible!”, said Marius is a low voice and made a sad face.

Éponine put down her cup and sighed, patting Cosette's knee in a compassionate air before she said: “I think you should ask Joly or Combeferre for one of those particularly thick earplugs tonight. There will be a lot of shouting from their room.”

“And later on a lot of angry sex and reconciliation sex after that.”, sighed Bousset and finished his coffee. Courfeyrac was gaping at them while Bousset and the slender young man exchanged a glance.

“What?!”, gasped Courfeyrac in disbelieve and had his eyes fixed at Bousset who just grinned, nodding, “They are a couple?!”, added Courfeyrac in disbelieve.

“Yes, for two years now.”, offered Cosette an explanation that made Courfeyrac blink rapidly.

“I would have never...”, stuttered Courfeyrac and Bahorel huffed a laugh and recited: “Opposites attract. And I've never met two people who are more the opposite from one another than Enjolras and Grantaire.”

“I think I'll go check on Grantaire.”, sighed Bousset and got up, his dragon following suit.

“I'll come with you.”, offered the slender man and struggled up as well before turning to Courfeyrac, “I'm Prouvaire, by the way. But everyone calls me Jehan.”

“Hi.”, said Courfeyrac feebly, still a little shaken by the fight of the two men earlier.

“And I'll go check on Feuilly and Swoboda.”, sighed Bahorel and struggled up, shooing Chimera into the air who landed after a moment – to everyone's slight surprise – in Courfeyrac's lap and curled up there, “They're probably taking this much too serious again...”

And with those words he strode away, leaving Courfeyrac and Marius alone with Éponine and Cosette who were looking at Courfeyrac who felt the words pile up on his tongue like lead weights. Chimera started the purring sound again and Courfeyrac dropped his hands to scratch her back lightly.

“All right, pretty boy”, sighed Éponine and gave Prokno a slight push so that he swung himself on her shoulder, “Spill it before you choke on all the questions.”

“Are they the only couple I don't know of? Like Feuilly and Bahorel?”, he asked in an instant and saw Marius rolling his eyes. Courfeyrac had always been a sucker for gossip and could not change his curious nature.

Éponine and Cosette exchanged an amused glance, but then Cosette leaned forward and looked intent at Courfeyrac, telling him: “If we had known that you were _that_ curious, we would have drawn you a chart about our complicated little group...Of Enjolras and Grantaire you know now. They're together but don't ever think you'll find any romance or some kind of other touchy feeling between them in public. They're not that kind of couple.”

“Although you might be astonished what you'd hear through the stone walls when they're at it. Passionate, really passionate and loud!”, grinned Éponine, more to wind up Cosette than to tell Courfeyrac because Cosette blushed and covered her ears with her hands, mumbling: “I don't want to hear those things about my brother, _please_!”

Éponine chuckled and turned to Courfeyrac again: “Feuilly and Bahorel are indeed a couple. They are sickeningly cute sometimes and really do look out for each other. The only complicated thing in this relationship is Jehan.”

“Jehan?”, echoed Courfeyrac.

In the next couple of moments Courfeyrac learned that Feuilly and Bahorel were a couple, but that Jehan had the biggest crush imaginable on both of them. And while Bahorel seemed completely all right with the thought to live in a committed triangular relationship, Feuilly refrained from it.

“It's not that he...”, explained Cosette and wrinkled her nose, scratching her temple in thought, “I think it's not the idea of having two boyfriends that scares him. I mean, we see how perfect that can work out for Bousset, Joly and Musichetta and he sees that too, it's just...”

“He thinks he's not good enough for both of them.”, explained Éponine who completed Cosette in a magnificent way, “He thinks he can not love both in equal shares and therefore fears to be not enough for one of them. He always thinks that he doesn't deserve things. It was a hard piece of work for Bahorel to make him see that he deserved him and that Bahorel really wants to be with him.”

“Maybe with some time, all three of them will find together, don't you think?”, asked Marius who seemed to have never been a stranger to this group and Courfeyrac once again wondered how Marius could get close friends with people so easily. Because he wasn't as suspicious of dragons and their riders as Courfeyrac was, whispered a voice in the back of his head. Courfeyrac shook his head about the thought when a movement at the tunnel leading to the quarters caught his eyes.

Combeferre came striding out of the tunnel, his face pale and his hands clenched into fists. He wasn't paying attention to the people sitting on the sofa and armchairs but strode through the whole hall, determined and focused. He disappeared into the tunnel that lead to the dragon's cave. Courfeyrac stared into the blackness for a moment longer, then he interrupted Éponine without listening to her words.

“What about Combeferre?”, he asked hastily before he could think, “He and Enjolras seem close. Is he... Have they a similar dynamic as Feuilly, Jehan and Bahorel?”

He turned back to the two women and caught Marius' amused smile which he tent to ignore. Cosette looked into the direction Combeferre had disappeared to and it was up to Éponine to answer: “No, not at all. He and Enjolras are friends since I know them. Combeferre is... he's... well...”

“Éponine and he had something going on last year!”, cut Cosette in and Éponine squealed, pressing her hand over Cosette's lips while she was giggling happily.

“You promised not to tell _anyone_!”, she hissed, glaring daggers at Cosette who was enjoying herself immensely.

Courfeyrac's heart had dropped into his stomach. So he had been mistaken about Combeferre. Would not have been the first time that he had fallen for a man he could not have. He did not pay attention to the two women bickering about the secret while he looked down at Chimera in his lap who had fallen asleep while he had been scratching her scales lightly.

“Why did you ask about him?”, asked Marius and the two women grew silent, looking at him as well. Courfeyrac blushed and waived a hand through the air, dismissing the question while muttering: “Nothing, it's nothing...”

“Well, talking about _nothing_ ”, said Éponine who had a knowing sparkle in her dark eyes, “There was _nothing_ between me and Combeferre. Joly had tried that new potion against headaches caused from the pressure differences during flying a dragon, we volunteered to try them and... well... they had a few side effects that we wouldn't have expected.”

“Joly drugged you?”, asked Marius amused and bit back a giggle.

Éponine scowled at him and explained: “He didn't drug us. The mixture was wrong. It was meant to paralyse the pain. Well, it paralysed a few things more and we were more or less three sheets to the wind and we were to spent the night in the same room so that Joly could keep an eye on us and well... it was awkward in the morning, believe me.”

“So you weren't in a relationship?”, asked Courfeyrac and hope scorched his heart to glow again.

“Oh god, no!”, laughed Éponine, “He's a great guy and really, really bloody handsome, but I guess he's not interested in the likes of Cosette, Musichetta or me.”

“Good...”, sighed Courfeyrac before he could think any better and blushed deep red when Cosette and Marius burst into laughter, Éponine wriggling her eyebrows at him.

They were not much longer alone afterwards. Musichetta, Bousset and Joly where the first to rejoin them and Musichetta proofed to be one of the most gorgeous, most likeable and friendly persons Courfeyrac had met in a long time. She was a short woman, chubby and full of laughter. Her dark eyes glinted in a round, open face and a nearly always present smile spread her full lips. Joly and Bousset were head over heals into her and she was completely devoted to both of them.

A few moments later, Bahorel returned with Feuilly who was a little paler than usual and beckoned him to sit down next to Courfeyrac, kissing his forehead before bustling off to make him a cup of tea. Feuilly beamed wide when Courfeyrac leaned over to ask how Swoboda was and got immediately into a long tale about his dragon to which Courfeyrac listened intently.

Shortly after their return, Enjolras and Combeferre appeared in the main cave. Combeferre strolled over to sit on the cushion next to Marius while Enjolras marched through the cave towards the quarters, a determined expression on his face. They all watched him, then got back to their conversations. A few moments later, Jehan returned and said that Enjolras and Grantaire were talking things over.

Musichetta, Jehan and Bahorel got to the kitchen a moment later, starting to prepare a healthy dinner while Feuilly kept entertaining Courfeyrac with tales about his friends and the newest gossip in the realm.

Courfeyrac could only partly concentrate on the things he heard because he was secretly watching Combeferre talking to Marius and Bousset in a low voice, his slender, big hands gesticulating slowly and scarcely while his face remained calm even when Bousset got really worked up about something they talked about.

Moments later, Enjolras and Grantaire returner, walking close together but not holding hands. Grantaire was pale and Enjolras still a little red faced but they seemed on good terms again. Bahorel was sent out of the kitchen after nicking too much of the food and accompanied Feuilly and Courfeyrac.

When dinner was prepared, Bahorel had enough of Courfeyrac teasing him about the fact that he couldn't be as strong as he looked and simply scooped the First Hunter of the realm up in his arms. Courfeyrac squealed in shock and flailed about while Bahorel barked a booming laugh and carried him over to the table, accompanied by laughter and mocking of his friends.

Courfeyrac was set down on the left side on the head of the table, where Enjolras took a seat. Grantaire sat opposite from Courfeyrac who recognized a little disappointed that Combeferre took the seat at the end of the table, still talking to Bousset and Marius.

The food was good and rich, everyone praising Musichetta and Jehan for their cooking. Courfeyrac enjoyed the food although Joly made sure that he only got a lot of soup, a little bread and loads of herbal tea. Grantaire was enjoying his wine more than usual, teasing Courfeyrac with his exaggerated slurping and gurgling. Enjolras shot him reprimanding yet fond looks now but said nothing.

After a while, it turned out that Courfeyrac and Enjolras were really not that different and got along very well when left alone. They could probably talk for hours about the fact that things had been better in the realm when it still had had a democratically elected house of representatives.

That had changed three decades ago when the prime minister – the head of the Pontmercy family at that time – had the public vote about an act which would make him a totalitarian sovereign in the case of a threatening situation for the realm. A few weeks later, a neighbouring realm had declared war on the realm, Pontmercy had been crowned king and every one of his successors had had a good explanation why there was still an emergency threatening the realm.

“Maybe one Pontmercy will have the courage one day to change things.”, sighed Courfeyrac and emptied his fourth cup of tea.

“There is no use in waiting for a man to give up his power.”, stated Enjolras passionate, “There is only one way to change things: to take things in our own hands and change things the way we want it.”

“You'll need the people on your side and while you still fly on dragons, they will never join forces with you.”, replied Courfeyrac with a frown.

Feuilly sitting next to Marius leaned forward and cut in: “If more people knew better about dragons, they wouldn't be afraid of them.”

“I think the people know enough about dragons. Their fear is justified.”, gave Courfeyrac back.

“How much do you know about dragons?”, asked Bahorel sitting next to Courfeyrac and took a sip from his beer.

Courfeyrac turned to him and suddenly felt all eyes on him. His ears got red when he caught a quick glance at Combeferre who had cocked his head a little and watched him interested. Courfeyrac cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter, feeling Chimera shift in his lap.

“I know enough to be the First Hunter. I can name nearly any race, can sort them into classes and for sure know how to handle a dragon.”, he declared and was glad how strong his voice sounded.

“And by handle you mean killing?”, asked Grantaire and took a deep sip from his glass, this time no sarcasm or irony in his words.

Courfeyrac bit his lip and looked to his plate a moment, then he looked up and right at Grantaire while he said: “Sometimes there's no other way. I've never killed a dragon but sometimes we have to in order to protect our community.”

“Give me one situation when killing a dragon was necessary.”, dared Bahorel Courfeyrac and watched him intently while Courfeyrac huffed for a moment.

“Last month”, he began then, not able to look at any one of them, but not able to back down either, “we were called to a farm at the outskirts of the woods. They were pig farmers, grew vegetables and provided the best parchment in the realm. Two badger catchers had attacked them, a mother with her pup. They burned down the whole farm, killing all the inhabitants of the farm and eight hundred pigs. One of the boys survived, he's only four years old and orphaned now. The dragons would not back off from him, so we had to act.”

Courfeyrac raised his eyes for a moment and saw how Feuilly was pale and bent forward a little. Grantaire reached over and patted his shoulder for a moment, then Feuilly looked up and asked in a low voice: “And killing the dragons will make the life of this boy easier?”

“It won't.”, confessed Courfeyrac, “But it will make the life of the community safer.”

There was a short silence at the table while everyone was watching Courfeyrac who felt his face go hot as well as his ears. He already thought about asking to be allowed to leave the table and go to his quarters, when a low voice broke the silence: “Do you know why they attack people, Courfeyrac?”

Courfeyrac looked up and found Combeferre watching him intently, his face calm and indifferent, even diplomatic while he crossed his long fingers on the table. Courfeyrac opened his mouth a few times, snapping it shut every time again because there were no words. He had never thought into that direction, the scholars said dragons were illogical, savage and unpredictable.

“I... I am no dragon, so I wouldn't know. They are unpredictable.”, answered Courfeyrac, not able to look away from Combeferre even when Enjolras took it upon himself to talk now.

“They are not unpredictable. They are searching.”, he declared and leaned back, nodding at Combeferre who had gestured discreetly at him that he wanted to talk. Courfeyrac looked back at him again and Combeferre leaned back, taking a deep breath before he started.

“Dragons are not unpredictable or savage or whatever your scholars claim. They are animals, yes, but they are intelligent and driven by a need to find their significant other.”, he declared calmly while Courfeyrac narrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Search for a significant other?”, he echoed and snorted, “Don't you think you're exaggerating?”

“I am not.”, said Combeferre and leaned back when Joly next to Bahorel leaned forward to ask: “Do you think those dragons stick with us because it is easier for them to live with humans than in the wild? It's not like they have much of a choice once they found us. Parting from us means... loosing a part of themselves.”

“And it's much the same for a person who has found their dragon.”, said Jehan quietly while Feuilly turned his head to look sympathetic at the man to his left, “Did you ever witness the killing of a dragon in front of their human partner?”

Courfeyrac gulped heavily. He had and he dreaded remembering that evening. They had been deep in the woods, it had been late evening and Courfeyrac had still been young. Fifteen or sixteen, he couldn't quite remember. They had caught the man and his fox snapper on their way back to the castle. The man had been broad shouldered, fit and a good fighter but when they had killed his dragon in front of his eyes, the man had screamed in agony and had wept like a child until he had lost his voice. The toneless sobs of this man haunted Courfeyrac sometimes in his dreams.

Jehan seemed to see in his face that he had, so he continued: “It's not like watching your pet die. It's like... it's like... loosing yourself. Seeing yourself been torn apart only that you know you will survive, but that that part of you will forever ache in your heart. It's...”

Jehan shuddered and closed his eyes, Feuilly carefully wrapping an arm around his shoulders, uttering consoling words into his ear. Courfeyrac couldn't look away from Jehan and felt bile rise in his throat. To break the silence, Enjolras cleared his throat and looked intently at Courfeyrac.

“It is true that dragons grow more and more dangerous the older they get. But that does only apply to those who haven't found their significant other until then. They feel a restlessness and a despair inside them that they can't control.”, he declared.

“It's like going mad.”, added Grantaire and refilled his glass, “It's like searching and searching without success. It's like feeling useless, incapable and dumb. It means doubting yourself and your abilities... It's utter despair.”

Courfeyrac felt his throat go tight and the question forming on his lips just didn't slip out because Grantaire sighed deeply and added, looking up at Courfeyrac: “They don't mean any harm, they just grow insecure and afraid.”

“Why do they attack people then?”, he asked quietly, not seeing the connection between attacks and search, “Why not search? Why torment people?”

“We need to show him. He wouldn't believe us if we just tell him.”, said Grantaire calmly to Enjolras and the blond man nodded. He got up and whistled through his teeth. Ruby, lying a little to the side, raised her head when Enjolras turned to her. She sat up while he came to her, running his hand along her slender neck, talking to her in a quiet voice. Then he made a step back and Ruby took a deep breath.

The heat of the flames shooting out of her nostrils washed over Courfeyrac like an explosion. He screamed in shock and jumped to his feet, knocking his chair over, ignoring the pain in his leg. The flames were shooting up Enjolras arm and enveloped his chest, his face aglow from the light.

Courfeyrac felt nausea rise in him while he wanted to help the blond man, didn't understand what was going on, couldn't hold himself back. Bahorel grabbed his arm and held him back when he wanted to rush to Enjolras' aid.

But there was no need, Courfeyrac recognized when he looked back at Enjolras. Ruby had stopped breathing fire and sat there, cocking her head at Courfeyrac who had only then recognized that he had still been shouting for help frantically.

Enjolras stood next to Ruby, patting her neck reassuring. He was not harmed, his skin was intact, his clothes unburned, his face alight with a warm glow that matched the fond smile he bestowed on his dragon before turning to Courfeyrac again.

“What...?”, gasped Courfeyrac and had to support himself against the table, “How...? How is this possible? Why aren't you burnt?”

“This is how we find our dragons.”, declared Combeferre quietly and distracted Courfeyrac from the breakdown that was approaching him, “We are immune to their fire. We and only we can stand their flames. That's when the dragon knows that they have found their equal.”

“So...”, piped Courfeyrac while Bahorel picked up his chair and pushed Courfeyrac down gently, “So what? They try to set you aflame and if you survive, you're their significant other?!”

“No.”, giggled Joly whose amusement wasn't entirely justified, Courfeyrac thought sourly, “Of course not. They search, they observe, they find you alone and breath fire once.”

“Or you just stumble over their tail by accident, they try to defend themselves and are really taken aback when you survive their fire.”, smiled Bousset and winked at Lucky who had raised her head from her paws, watching the scene intently.

“So this attack...?”, asked Courfeyrac slowly, feeling too many thoughts whirl through his mind so that he would most likely have a headache in the night.

“Wasn't an attack at all.”, declared Enjolras and sat down slowly, “Either the mother or most likely the pup found in the boy their significant other. Their approach might have... we don't know what made them attack the whole farm, but they surely meant no harm to the other people.”

“The family burnt in their house.”, mused Marius slowly, “There had been a lot of wind that day. Maybe... maybe they breathed fire on the boy and a spark set the whole house ablaze?!”

“Could be.”, said Éponine, “No dragon would willingly kill innocents.”

“Then what about those corpses we find burnt in the woods?”, asked Courfeyrac, feeling confused more than ever, “What about those unfortunate souls?”

“Dragons are no clairvoyants. They can make mistakes too.”, declared Musichetta and nodded slowly while Bousset kissed her temple.

“That's why we fight for dragons. If they would get support in their search, there maybe would be a fall in deaths. Maybe more people could live with their dragons if they were not depicted like monsters from our darkest nightmares.”, declared Feuilly.

Courfeyrac had propped his head into his palm and stared onto the wood of the table. This could not be. The scholars would have found that out if it was like the riders said. They would have not lied about the reason for the dragon attacks, would they?

“Did you ever feel... lost, lonely and unsure of what to do with your life?”, asked Cosette gently and Courfeyrac felt his heart cringe about the exact way that Cosette had described the feeling that sometimes came over him late at night when everyone else was sleeping. He raised his head slowly and looked at her. She was smiling fondly at him and her sympathetic eyes were nearly bringing tears to Courfeyrac's eyes.

“I... I...”, stuttered Courfeyrac and felt a foot nudge him under the table. He looked up to find Grantaire smile lightly at him.

“We all felt that way someday.”, he declared, “Some of us a long time ago. Some of us only recently... like myself. Then I found Syrah and everything changed. You are missing your dragon, Courfeyrac, that's why you sometimes feel lonely.”

“My dragon?”, asked Courfeyrac and laughed unhappy, “I am the First Hunter, I don't have... I will never have...”

“You will know what we meant when your dragon breaths fire on you the first time.”, supplied Bousset words of consolation and nodded encouraging.

“This is ridiculous...”, breathed Courfeyrac and struggled up.

“You can't live without the fire.”, said Combeferre quietly and Courfeyrac stilled, the cane gripped tightly, his head lowered, heart beating frantically. He slowly looked up again and found Combeferre watching him worried.

“It's a part of who we are.”, said Bahorel slowly and wanted to tug Courfeyrac down in his seat again, but Courfeyrac drew his arm away.

“I... I can't...”, stuttered Courfeyrac, feeling everything pressing down too hard on him, all his truths evaporating into thin air while the world started spinning.

“All right...”, sighed Joly and got up hastily, “That's enough for one evening. I think we better tug Courfeyrac into bed, he's been unconscious for too long and shouldn't strain himself on the first evening out of bed.”

“I'm coming with you.”, offered Bahorel and got up as well, gripping Courfeyrac's arm reassuring while the young hunter felt overtaxed with everything. Together, they brought Courfeyrac back into Grantaire's room, Bahorel helped him out of his clothes and Joly tugged him into bed, ordering him to sleep.

But Courfeyrac couldn't sleep for a long time. His truths had been shattered into a thousand pieces, his head was reeling with all the new information and his heart ached from the doubts about his chosen path.

 

:<∙>:

 

Courfeyrac had barely slept during the night when the whirring of tiny wings woke him up. He opened his eyes to find Prokno hover only a few inches over his face, looking intently at him. He jumped a little upon seeing the dragon, then Prokno licked his snout and flew off with the speed of a humming bird.

Courfeyrac groaned and sat up in his bed, grabbing his hurting head with a sigh. He had had the worst night of his whole life and he felt even worse than on the day when he had first woken up from his poisoning. All he wished was to curl up in bed and to be left in peace, but he was sure Prokno spying on him meant that soon somebody would come to check on him.

And sure enough, a moment later Marius stuck his head through the door and smiled wide at him.

“Good morning.”, he greeted and entered, accompanied by Lucky and Prokno who perched on Lucky's remaining horn.

“ _Good_ is an exaggeration.”, grumbled Courfeyrac and watched Marius sit down at the foot of his bed. Marius smiled a little concerned and cocked his head.

“You seem troubled.”, he mused.

“I _am_ troubled!”, snapped Courfeyrac and sighed, slumping back into the pillows, “Don't tell me you were unconcerned when you learned all those things!”

“I wasn't. But I... Courfeyrac, that explains so much!”

“And contradicts everything we believe in. It makes us the cruel, not the dragons.”

“We didn't know better.”, tried Marius to console Courfeyrac who just waived the statement away.

“That's no excuse. But now that we know, what shall we do?”, he asked, rubbing his eyes slowly, “We are but two men... handsome we may be... in a whole realm opposing dragons. Imagine what Javert might say. Imagine what...”

“You worry too much.”, said Marius calmly and placed a hand on Courfeyrac's knee, “First of all you need to get better, then we can worry about what we will tell grandfather and Javert. And I am sure Enjolras will help us if we decide to side with them.”

Courfeyrac nodded slowly, his thoughts drifting away again. He felt Marius watch him intently, then he cocked his head and said: “There is more on your mind, Courf. What is it?”

Courfeyrac turned under Marius' attention and was reluctant to tell him what was troubling him even more then the false propaganda of the scholars. Because Courfeyrac was sure that they knew about the true nature of dragons and only kept sticking to what the kings always said not to loose their position.

“It's about...”, he started but hesitated again, leaning up on an elbow, staring out of bed into the gloom of the room, not able to look at Marius while his words petered away.

“Yes?”, encouraged Marius and rubbed his knee encouraging.

Courfeyrac sighed deeply and started again: “It's about the night my parents died.”

“Oh.”, breathed Marius but did not know what else to say.

Courfeyrac had spent the majority of the night trying not to think about that faithful day in his past. He had been seven when the citron parachute came. It had been a shadow in the dark, blending out the light of the stars while Courfeyrac had sat at the window of his chamber. His father had come to get him and had tried to carry him outside. When the roof had come down, his father had thrown him out the window before the heavy beams had buried him in a blast of flames. He could still hear the agonized cries of his mother, trapped in the upper floor. Courfeyrac shivered.

He had not been injured that night. He had sat on the lawn and had cried in despair about the roaring fire, about the shouting of his mother, about the hand of his father that was visible in the doorway under a pile of burning wood. The castle guard had found him there and had... protected him from the dragon. They had not been able to bring it down but one of the guardsmen swore that he had shot a bolt through the wing of the dragon.

Before he could – once again – think about the significance of the dragon attack, another person appeared in the room and greeted in a warm voice: “Good morning, you two. I heard voices and thought I'd check on you.”

Courfeyrac looked up and found Combeferre standing in the doorway, the leather mask used for flying tugged under his arm while he smiled kindly at the two men sitting in bed.

“Good morning, Ferre. Are you about to fly out?”, asked Marius and beamed while Courfeyrac tried to resemble his senses after seeing Combeferre in the leather armour and leather trousers again that the riders wore on patrol. This was far too sexy to be legal, Courfeyrac was sure about that.

“Yes, we are.”, answered Combeferre and stepped into the room when Prokno flew over to him and sniffed noisily at his trousers, “Cosette and Éponine found traces that there's a new dragon in the area. It's probably a type three to four, we don't know yet. Most likely fire or air, considering the mountains around.”

“Are you going to catch it?”, asked Marius excited and got up.

“No.”, smiled Combeferre kindly about Marius enthusiasm, “We are going to find out who they are and whether they already have a companion. And when they haven't, we'll get Grantaire or Bousset out there to help them.”

“Is it too much to ask if I can come?”, asked Marius and his eyes glinted excited. Combeferre huffed a kind laugh and shook his head, grabbing Marius' shoulder in a consoling way.

“I am sorry, Marius, but Enjolras forbids it. On the other hand”, Combeferre said and turned to Courfeyrac for the first time since he had entered, “He wants me to ask you if you are willing to come with us?”

“Me?”, asked Courfeyrac completely and utterly surprised and sat up in bed, terribly aware about the fact that he was wearing nothing but plain breeches underneath the cover.

Combeferre smiled softly and nodded slowly: “Yes, you. Enjolras was wondering if you would like to learn more... see more?”

“I... I am not sure...”, stuttered Courfeyrac and saw surprised how doubts flickered over Combeferre's face while he turned the mask in his hands, looking to the ground.

Marius served as mediator because he blurted: “As prince and your superior, I order you to go on patrol with the dragon riders, First Hunter.”

Both Courfeyrac and Combeferre turned surprised to him while the freckled, lanky boy crossed his arms and bestowed a grave look on Courfeyrac. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, not used to Marius pulling his prince-card at him and did not know what to do. When he caught the small smile on Combeferre's face, he blushed a little and muttered: “As you wish, my prince.”

“Great!”, laughed Marius and clapped his hands, “Now that that's settled, I'll go and make some breakfast for you. Joly will probably kill us if we send him out without breakfast. Is there still time for some toast and eggs, Ferre?”

“Of course there is.”, agreed Combeferre and watched Marius bustle away, eager to prepare some breakfast for his friend. Now they were left alone in the narrow room and Courfeyrac looked up to Combeferre, finding his words again.

“So do I also get such a dashing armour as you or is this just the privilege of the good looking?”, he asked cheeky and blushed deeply when he realized what he had just said. Cursing himself in his mind, he wondered why in the name of everything that was good in this world he always had such a loose tongue. He only had meant to make some conversation and not chat him up. Well, to be honest, if Combeferre would be chatted up by that remark he wouldn't be sad about it either.

Combeferre was smiling half amused at him and tossed the mask onto the bed while he told him: “Unfortunately the armour is hand-made and I'm fairly sure even Jehan needs more time to complete one, but you can have my second mask. Can you change on your own or do you want my help?”

“I think I'm fine.”, said Courfeyrac and flung the covers back, realizing too late what he was doing. When he sat only in breeches on the edge, staring up at Combeferre, his mouth seemed to develop a life of its own and tried to save the awkward situation by blurting: “But I might come back to that offer when it comes to undressing tonight.”

Combeferre laughed quietly, shaking his head and turned around before he left the room.

Courfeyrac was mortified about his behaviour. Why did he always loose it in the most embarrassing way when a cute guy was around him? He was so confident and charismatic around other people, as soon as it came to blokes he liked he acted like a complete and utter idiot.

But Combeferre had laughed. It had not been a disgusted nor a condescending laugh. He had been amused and if Courfeyrac's eyes were working properly, he had even detected a slight blush on Combeferre's neck. Those weren't bad signs, were they?

Courfeyrac sighed deeply and got up to dress himself in the things the rebels had lent him. The same plain clothes in grey and brown tones. He wondered what had happened to his courtly garments that had cost almost one and a half monthly pays and had been hand sewn by the most acclaimed tailor of the realm. Shrugging his shoulders to himself he drew the plain beige linen shirt over his head and flung the hickory coloured waistcoat over as well.

Grabbing the cane he limped out the room and towards the vast cave where a noisy breakfast was held. Everyone had assembled around the gigantic table where Enjolras was giving out orders for the day. Joly looked up alarmed when he heard the clonk of the cane on the stone floor and darted off his chair when he saw Courfeyrac come into the cave.

“What are you doing? Why didn't you call for someone? Oh god, did the stitches break open? Why didn't you...”, spluttered Joly and grasped Courfeyrac's shoulder while Musichetta watched them smiling, shaking her head fondly about her boyfriend.

“I am all right, Joly, don't worry. Marius and Combeferre came to check on me and I sent them away. Don't make such a fuss about me, I am fine, cross my heart and hope to die.”, tried Courfeyrac to calm down Joly who still seemed concerned and also a little suspicious while they walked – canes clonking in unison – towards the table where Marius had set up a healthy breakfast for Courfeyrac. He could get used to the status of prisoner if that meant such a delicious smelling breakfast each morning.

“Thanks, your Highness.”, smiled Courfeyrac and winked at Marius who sat opposite the nearly ceiling-high piled up plate. Marius smiled back and watched Courfeyrac sit down, taking up the fork and tasting the eggs that were – honestly speaking – the best eggs he had ever tasted.

“Good morning, First Hunter.”, said Enjolras and made Courfeyrac look up to the head of the table where Combeferre and Grantaire were sitting to Enjolras' left and right, a map spread out between them.

Courfeyrac bit back a smile and raised a fork full scrambled eggs in salute to the blond man while he munched: “Good morning, Fearless Leader.”

Enjolras raised an amused eyebrow while Grantaire snorted into a cup that contained – judging from the splutters flying onto Grantaire's pear coloured shirt – already some wine. Combeferre shook his head again with that endearing little smile that would turn Courfeyrac into a drooling idiot if he did not stop it any time soon.

“I heard Combeferre told you about our proposition?”, asked Enjolras and Courfeyrac forked up a piece of crispy bacon that had been hidden under the eggs, looking pointedly at the piece of meat while Enjolras and Combeferre were watching him intently.

“I don't think you should eat that.”, cut Joly in and leaned forward, blocking out Combeferre from Courfeyrac's view and frowned worried at him, “That's much too greasy and not suited for a stomach that has been fed with nothing but soup and water for at least four days!”

“Leave him be, love.”, interrupted Musichetta while Enjolras tried to scowl them down, “He had normal food yesterday when you were too busy giving me that monster lovebite than to watch him and he's still alive.”

“But...”, piped Joly and Bousset just leaned over to place a long, slow and lazy kiss on his boyfriend's lips.

“Well?”, got Enjolras Courfeyrac's attention back while he finally was allowed to eat the bacon, groaning delighted about the quality of the meat.

“I'm having a hard time to figure out why you would want _me_ on patrol with _you_?”, gave Courfeyrac back a little reserved and hoped that his excitement and curiously would not shine through his words.

“Because”, started Grantaire and cut out Enjolras, who closed his mouth with a careful scowl directed at Grantaire, “You're not the superficial, dumb as a post hunter we usually encounter and therefore think we can still knock some sense into your brainwashed skull.”

“What R is trying to say”, sighed Feuilly who sat at Grantaire's left side, “is that we think you might learn to understand dragons and maybe want to stand up for their rights in the realm. You as First Hunter must have a lot of influence on how dragons are seen.”

“Great, Feuilly.”, muttered Grantaire, “Why don't you tell him my underpants size too so that he knows everything about our plans?”

“I'm judging you're a six to seven and I think that you're overestimating my influence by a lot!”, Courfeyrac retorted and made Grantaire smirk at him while Bousset seemed impressed by Courfeyrac's ability to judge sizes.

“Still”, spoke Enjolras up and interwove his fingers on the table, “one changed mind is already helping our cause. The question is now if you would like to see what we do or plainly stick to the propaganda the scholars declare as science...”

Every face was turned to Courfeyrac now who swallowed down the last fork full of scrambled eggs and let his eyes roam quickly over the assembled people before gulping again. He sighed, straightened up and declared: “All right, I can't deny that I'm curious. I'll come with you. But if you drop me off a dragon mid-flight I will come back as a ghost and haunt you until the end of your days!”

Most of the assembled dragon riders laughed while Joly scowled at Enjolras and Combeferre in turns. Éponine got up and passed behind Courfeyrac, patting his shoulder benevolently while Prokno swooped down and stole the last piece of meat from Courfeyrac's plate. He watched the small dragon devour the bacon in flight and vanish into the distance after flicking his tongue at him.

“I am not thrilled by that.”, grumbled Joly and swiped some crumbs into his hand to empty them onto a plate, “You woke up from a poisoning just a few days ago and today they want to take you to a patrol. This is too soon. The stitches could open again, you could catch a cold from the draft or you could... fall off a dragon while getting off and injure your other leg or the same leg and it could infect again and there is not enough healthy tissue to scratch it out once more and then we would have to take it off and then...”

“Give me your cup and shut up, my love.”, smiled Musichetta and got up, kissing Joly's hair before reprimanding fondly: “You are far too worried. He's a strong and tough young man, he can handle a little fresh air. And Combeferre is on board with it too. You know if there was immediate danger to Courfeyrac's health, Ferre wouldn't allow it.”

“I know.”, grumbled Joly and watched Bousset sourly while he piled up his cereal bowl and his cup to clean them away. He left the table and Joly's eyes wandered back to Courfeyrac who had been watching Combeferre gesticulating over the map, talking intently to Feuilly, Grantaire and Enjolras about something, his eyes glinting excited while Grantaire nodded from time to time.

“Ehm...”, made Joly and when Courfeyrac looked back, he found the young healer grinning wide.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just thought I intervene before you undress Ferre with your eyes.”, smirked Joly.

“I didn't!”, gasped Courfeyrac, horrified how easy he was to look through, “I would never...”

He got interrupted by a mighty clatter and splintering and turned rapidly in his chair. Bousset had made his way to the kitchen but before he had reached it, he had stumbled over his own feet to avoid Marinaio who had dashed out from under the table to follow Phoenix who had stolen the best part of his breakfast. Now Bousset lay face down in the midst of broken crockery and groaned annoyed.

Musichetta rushed over from the coffee maker and Joly was off his chair before anyone could react. Bahorel was closest to the accident and stooped to help Bousset up, Lucky rushing over to see if Bousset was all right.

“I'm fine.”, grumbled Bousset and brushed some dust off his trouser, “Just mixed up my legs again.”

“Marinaio!”, barked Musichetta while Joly whistled for Phoenix to come and get chided.

Someone tapped Courfeyrac's shoulder and he looked up to Grantaire who smiled encouraging at him.

“You better get going now that Joly is preoccupied with Bousset. You might never get a better chance.”, he smirked and winked.

Courfeyrac looked up and found Feuilly waving him over to the entrance to the tunnel that lead to the dragon cave. Grabbing the cane and Combeferre's spare mask, he made his way over to the smiling ginger and followed him down the tunnel into the dome like cave where the bigger dragons lived.

Enjolras was just fastening a strap of the saddle on Ruby's back while Combeferre patted the nostrils of his dragon before stepping onto her leg to put on the saddle. Jehan was sitting at a table full with leather, shed dragon scales and strong looking yarn in a corner, concentrated working on mending a cuirass while the most gorgeous specimen of a green jewel hatcher was curled around him and the whole table, nearly as big as Parthenope, and dozing in the warm air of the cave.

Bahorel came after them and nudged his dragon awake while Feuilly departed to put the saddle on Swoboda. Courfeyrac stood a little lost in the entrance of the cave and watched the dragons. They seemed happy to see their partners, eager to be saddled and excited about the prospect to go on patrol.

While he watched Bahorel wrestle fondly with Lamia, he got the feeling that he was being watched and turned his head. Parthenope had her leg still lifted, Combeferre – standing on it – fastening the straps of the saddle, and was glaring intently at Courfeyrac. The stare was not hostile, more a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, of protection and warning. A shiver sped down Courfeyrac's back and he looked away, not sure what to make of that stare.

“So...”, said Enjolras as he stepped next to Courfeyrac, Ruby by his heels, as always, “This is unfortunately no normal patrol today.”

“Oh?”, inquired Courfeyrac when Enjolras was watching Feuilly pat Swoboda encouraging.

“Bahorel and Combeferre had the dawn patrol today and reported back about a new cave in the mountains we haven't encountered before. Chances are high that a mother dragon has carved it into the stone to throw. We want to see if they are still there and if they need help. We scout and decide whether we get Grantaire and Bousset up there later.”, explained Enjolras while Ruby lowered her long neck over his shoulder and let him scratch her between the eyes.

“Hold on.”, demanded Courfeyrac and raised both hands, “Are you telling me that we are approaching a female dragon with at least one pup? A dragon large enough to drill a cave into the rock of this mountain ridge? Is that what you're saying?”

“It is.”, confirmed Enjolras settled while Courfeyrac heard the amused chuckle of Bahorel.

“Are you mad?”, snapped Courfeyrac, eyes wide with horror, “You _can't_ approach a mother dragon, for crying out loud! She will kill you!!!”

“Don't worry, First Hunter.”, teased Bahorel and swung himself without any help onto the back of Lamia who had already raised a leg to help him, “We'll save your pretty little arse if the big, bad dragon comes to nibble at it.”

Feuilly laughed while Swoboda helped him climb up and Courfeyrac saw disappointed that even Combeferre tried to hide a grin in the neckline of his shirt. Enjolras shook his head to himself – also a very amused grin on his face – and turned to his men: “All right, who's willing to take our guest?”

Courfeyrac turned as well and saw that Bahorel was intently watching his fingernails while Feuilly was not as successful to pretend that he did not hear Enjolras. He instead looked like a kicked puppy at the blond leader, simply hoping that he would not be burdened with the First Hunter.

“I will take him.”, offered Combeferre and slid down from Parthenope's leg who seemed to be as astonished about his offer as Courfeyrac was. Enjolras seemed pleased and nodded to his lieutenant while he turned to everyone again: “All right, that's settled. Ruby and me will build the vanguard, Bahorel, Lamia and you will cover our rear. Feuilly, be wherever you're needed. And Combeferre”

The quiet man raised an eyebrow at Enjolras who had a hard time to suppress a smile, Courfeyrac could see it in the way his jaw worked.

“Don't drop our cargo.”, half-chuckled Enjolras and picked up the mask that was attached to a noose at Ruby's saddle.

“Yeah, Ferre!”, laughed Bahorel while he drew the mask over his head, his voice muffled after doing so, “You're the one believing in paranormal activities. Imagine this nag coming back to haunt you, you would jump off a cliff in no time to get rid of him!”

“Good idea!”, cut Courfeyrac in while he saw that a dark scowl spread over Combeferre's features that he didn't like at all, “Then we can be ghost buddies and spook out that loose-mouthed, would-be warrior!”

All Bahorel did was laugh even more but the grateful glimmer in Combeferre's eyes was enough to make Courfeyrac smile and wink at him.

“If you're done now”, interrupted Enjolras, already on dragonback and his mask wedged under his arm, looking like a Greek god about to go to war, “I would really like to get going. We don't get any younger.”

“Spoilsport.”, huffed Bahorel but curbed Lamia who started clawing at the ground, eager to get into the air. Ruby ascended into the clear blue visible through the crack with just a few mighty flaps of her wings, Enjolras grasping the reins with only one fist, standing in the stirrups, his face under the mask turned towards the sky, the other arm kept relaxed at his side.

“He's a show-off, isn't he?”, asked Combeferre, watching Enjolras after he had led Parthenope over to where Courfeyrac was watching the spectacle.

“Doesn't fail to impress, though.”, muttered Courfeyrac and turned to Combeferre who smiled encouraging at him. He turned and cast a glance to Parthenope who lowered her front leg to let Combeferre step upon the wrist. Then she lifted the leg again and Combeferre swung himself into the saddle, giving Courfeyrac a magnificent view on his long, slender, muscular legs and his perfectly shaped backside.

“Pot calling the kettle black...”, muttered Courfeyrac to himself while Combeferre adjusted in the saddle, taking up the reigns while Parthenope pranced a few steps to the side, looking so much more impressive than a horse ever could. Combeferre patted the nape of her short, sturdy neck and soothed her with a few words. Then he turned to Courfeyrac.

“Come on.”, he said and made Parthenope with a few small movements of muscles lie down to extend a hand to Courfeyrac, “Let's get you up here.”

Even lying, Parthenope's back was about half a meter over Courfeyrac's eye-level and he had to look up to Combeferre. And of course the stupid sunlight had to shine into the cave just then and illuminate him from behind, his careful smile and his outstretched hand giving Courfeyrac sweaty palms in a heartbeat. He felt himself blush and hurried to drag the mask over his face only to remember when the soft leather brushed over his lips, whose lips had previously touched that leather. He was grateful that no one saw how scarlet his face had turned.

Combeferre was still waiting when Courfeyrac handed him his cane that was stored away in a nook on the front of the saddle. Then he grasped the wrist of the other man and let Combeferre help him onto the back of his dragon – or to be more precise: drag Courfeyrac up while he was flailing for purchase with his feet, scrambling up in the most embarrassing and ungraceful way imaginable.

When he came to sit behind Combeferre, careful leaning back not to have much body contact with the dragon rider, he heard the muffled laughter of Bahorel and Feuilly. He turned around to snap at them but Combeferre's soft voice interrupted him: “Don't mind them. They like to have a laugh sometimes but they are good men. Now, I'm going to take off, you might want to hold on.”

Hold on?

Courfeyrac's brain short-circuited a moment while he was thinking horrified about the effect it would have on him if he had to wrap his arms around Combeferre's upper body, feel the muscles work in his stomach as well as in his back, pressed flush against his chest. He cleared his throat dryly and was about to reply that he was fine when Parthenope's wide wings started moving and they were catapulted into the sky.

Courfeyrac might have screamed, but only a little bit and nearly inaudible. Probably no one had heard that scream... that yelp... that whimper. Because it had been nothing and very, very... oh, who was he kidding, he had screamed like a girl just before he had closed his arms around Combeferre's body like a vice.

He felt Combeferre chuckle while they emerged into the sunlight, wind rushing over Courfeyrac's hair, dragging at his clothes and whistling in his ears. His ear and cheek was pressed flush against Combeferre's strong shoulder and his eyes were shut tightly while he felt the muscles of the dragon move them higher and higher into the air which turned colder and colder every second they ascended.

Suddenly, the wind was dying down and their flight turned less bumpy and finally Courfeyrac was brave enough to open his eyes and look. At first he saw only Parthenope's glinting scales and Combeferre's calf-high, tawny coloured suede boots. Then he dared to raise his head from Combeferre's shoulder and leaned to the side. Under Parthenope's wide spread wings lay mountains, rivers and occasionally flocks of trees that rushed away into the distance while the dragon sailed on the wind.

Courfeyrac could not stop to turn his head and gaped into the distance. He could see cities, he could even see the distant shape of the castle in the capital outlined grey against the blue horizon. He could make out the three big rivers that flowed through the realm and could even see the tavern he and Marius had taken their lunch in before they had been ambushed by the riders.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?”, called Combeferre over his shoulder, sitting firmer in the saddle than Enjolras did while he guided Parthenope around a particularly high mountain.

“Beautiful?!”, called Courfeyrac back intoxicated by what he saw and felt and laughed, “This is magnificent! Beyond words!”

He did not know if Combeferre smiled under his mask but he liked to imagine that he did when he turned around again and made Parthenope turn right. Courfeyrac kept glancing over Combeferre's shoulder, easing the tension in his arms only a little bit, far too excited to mind being that close to a bloke he found incredibly attractive. In the distance, he could see a red spot on the blue sky and assumed that Enjolras and Ruby were enjoying the flight just as much as he was.

A black shadow darted past them, turned in a roll and came rushing back at them, straight towards them, testing the nerves of Parthenope and Combeferre and daring them to swerve off as the first one. Courfeyrac's arms tightened and his fingernails scratched over the stiff leather of Combeferre's cuirass while Combeferre leaned forward, urging Parthenope into a faster flight.

Just a moment before the collision – Courfeyrac already yelling at Combeferre to turn away – the black badger catcher swooped down a few meters and avoided Parthenope who flew a roll in delight about her victory. Courfeyrac screamed horrified and felt how the verve of the roll pressed him into the saddle and against Combeferre – if that was even possible for he was already clinging to the rider like he wanted to crawl into his skin.

When they were in a horizontal position again, Courfeyrac opened his eyes and found Feuilly flying close to their left side and he imagined him grinning wide at them while Combeferre shook a winning fist in the air. Feuilly gave him the finger and made Swoboda fall off to the side, diving deeper and falling back again. As clumsy and lazy as the female badger catcher seemed on the ground, as graceful and strong she appeared in the sky.

Courfeyrac sighed shakily and loosened his grip once more while he felt Combeferre's shoulders and stomach shake from laughter. He shook his head to himself and cursed himself for agreeing to come with this reckless lot. He would fall to death and loose his life. He was too young to die and too good looking. It was a waste!

Combeferre patted Courfeyrac's intertwined fingers over his stomach and pointed forward. Courfeyrac looked and saw Enjolras and Ruby circling over a mountaintop in front of them. Apparently they had reached their destination.

Ruby was the first one to land, then Feuilly and Swoboda swooped down before Parthenope could even blink, looking up challenging as they made room for the largest dragon in their group. Parthenope went into nosedive and swooped down. Courfeyrac would have bet his life that she just did that to annoy him. His eyes were still closed and his face pressed between Combeferre's shoulder-blades when they were safely on the ground.

“Courfeyrac.”, chuckled Combeferre and Courfeyrac raised his head, finding Feuilly grinning at him and Enjolras with that amused smirk on his face that he tried to suppress. He immediately let go off Combeferre and straightened up, dragging the mask off his face. Feuilly grinned even more and before he could say something, Courfeyrac slid down Parthenope's side after Combeferre had made her lie down.

Combeferre followed him suit and took off his mask as well while Parthenope moved over to nudge Swoboda, most likely teasing the other dragon about her victory. Courfeyrac looked at Combeferre who was smiling amused and fond at him before he asked: “Are you all right?”

“Me?”, asked Courfeyrac and wedged the mask under his arm, trying to flatten his unruly chestnut curls with jittery fingers, “I am fine! Never been better.”

Combeferre just smiled knowing and watched Bahorel and Lamia approach. Courfeyrac – who did not like it in the slightest that Combeferre's attention had turned from him to something else – took a step towards the rider again and cleared his throat.

Combeferre turned and looked inquiring at him while Courfeyrac cast down his eyes, a little embarrassed while he muttered: “Listen... ehm... I'm sorry if I gave you some bruises or... or crushed your ribs for that matter.”

“Don't worry about it.”, smiled Combeferre and damn him, those eyes couldn't look any softer or more beautiful in the light of the early morning while he was looking intently at Courfeyrac, “I am fine. You will get used to flying. It takes some time.”

“Aha...”, made Courfeyrac and cleared his throat again, stepping even a little closer to Combeferre to lower his voice to a volume barely above a whisper when he continued, “And... ehm... I would be very grateful if you could... you know... forget about the... the... ehm... _noise level_ during our flight.”

Now Combeferre laughed and grasped Courfeyrac's shoulder, squeezing it encouraging while he was winking at him. He still smiled when he replied: “All right, that's going to be our little secret.”

Courfeyrac wondered whether or not Combeferre might guess what his hand on his shoulder was doing to Courfeyrac or how many butterflies that smile of his set loose in Courfeyrac's stomach. Courfeyrac just hoped that the smile he was flashing at him was not as shaky and nervous as his knees and stomach felt.

Bahorel and Lamia landed with a mighty blast of wind that made Courfeyrac take a step back, Combeferre looking over his shoulder to shoot him a comforting glance. Courfeyrac struggled to smile back while Parthenope was again staring at him with that unsettling glance that Combeferre seemed not to notice or chose to ignore.

“So.”, assembled Enjolras the patrol team when Bahorel had hopped off Lamia's back and had stuffed his mask back into the saddle bag just above Lamia's right hind leg, “This is the plateau, right?”

“Yes.”, confirmed Combeferre and went over to Parthenope to retrieve the cane for Courfeyrac who had not really been missing it, the adrenaline of the flight numbing down the slight twitch in his calf completely, “This is the plateau. The entrance to the cave must be behind that boulder over there.”

He got back to Courfeyrac and handed him the cane without looking at him and then strode into the direction of the stone he had indicated. Courfeyrac let the air whiz out between his teeth that he had probably been holding ever since Combeferre had put his hand on his shoulder. This was not good, this was not healthy. Joly should worry about what Combeferre did to Courfeyrac's pulse and heart-rate because that was really worrying, not the little scratch on his calf. If this continued the whole morning, Courfeyrac would have a heart-attack by noon.

“Are you coming, greenhorn?”, asked Bahorel and smiled happy at Courfeyrac who sighed once more and followed towards the boulder, the thought about approaching a dragon mother seeping into his mind again, terrifying him more than the roll Parthenope had made mid-air.

Enjolras and Combeferre had already vanished from sight, Bahorel hurrying to catch up with Feuilly, grasping his hand with a sickeningly sweet smile and dragging him along. Feuilly was smiling to himself and waived Courfeyrac to follow.

Courfeyrac gulped when he was rounding the stone slowly. He was not good on foot, so if the mother charged, he would be the easiest prey. Instinctively his hand wandered to his belt, where normally his sword would hang, but it was gone, of course. He squinted for the edge of the plateau and wondered if he would survive a jump down. Well, falling to death would probably be way more painless then being chewing gum for a class three to four dragon.

While he ran his hand along the stone to his right, taking deep, steadying breaths, the thought crossed his mind that maybe this had been a very perfidious plan of Enjolras' and his men. They wouldn't get their hands dirty and Courfeyrac would vanish from the earth's surface without a trace. And they could even tell Marius that it was an accident, that they tried to save him but couldn't.

Courfeyrac readied himself for whatever he would encounter on the other side of the boulder. He picked up his cane and raised it over one shoulder, both hands clasping the handle tightly, his shoulders aching from the tension in them. He slowed his breath and readjusted his fingers while carefully limping towards certain death. Maybe he could land one poke into the eye of the dragon, that would slow her down.

Another step brought Courfeyrac around the boulder and into the entrance of the cave. And what he saw there, he would have never expected.

Combeferre was kneeling in the mouth of the cave, in front of a narrow crack, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glinting excited while he cooed soft words into the crack. Feuilly and Bahorel were watching interested while Enjolras turned around when he approached, arms crossed. He slowly raised both eyebrows in a questioning way when he saw Courfeyrac using the cane like a club. When Courfeyrac dropped it immediately and blushed ever so slightly, Enjolras bit back the grin again and turned to watch Combeferre.

When the gorgeous rider heard Courfeyrac's cane clonk on the stone, he turned around and gave him the most beaming smile Courfeyrac had ever seen. Not even Marius under the Christmas Tree had smiled so wide and excited when they had been children. Courfeyrac cocked his head and wanted to ask what was going on, but Combeferre cut him short, his voice breathless from excitement: “Courfeyrac, come here, quickly! This is incredible!”

“That we're still alive inside the birth-cave of a type four dragon? Because yes, that's incredible.”, retorted Courfeyrac sceptically and stayed back behind Bahorel who was still watching the crack, concern in his features.

“No!”, replied Combeferre in a hushed voice and turned back to the crack, reaching inside a small pocket attached to his belt to pull out a tiny piece of raw meat, offering it towards the crack, “This is probably one of the most rare dragon races in the world! I didn't even know that they lived in these parts.”

Courfeyrac looked to Enjolras who shrugged his shoulders about the question in Courfeyrac's eyes. While Combeferre still tried to lure the dragon out of the crack, he sighed and turned to Courfeyrac to explain: “We think the pup is hiding in there. The mother is nowhere to be seen and the nest is completely cooled down. We're afraid she left and didn't return.”

“Ferre thinks a stromatolite stone-chewer baby is hiding in there.”, informed Feuilly Courfeyrac and finally answered the question that had been burning on Courfeyrac's tongue.

“I don't just think, I _know_ it!”, rejoiced Combeferre quietly and could not take his eyes off the crack, “I saw her folding her wings before she slunk in there, she's definitely a stone-chewer pup, I'm sure of it! You should have seen those patterns, the colours... she's so beautiful.”

“Did you see that thing?”, asked Courfeyrac Enjolras before he could think and was rewarded with a sour look from Combeferre that softened in an instant when his eyes caught Courfeyrac's.

“You'll see...”, he just muttered and placed the piece of meat in front of the crack, getting to his feet again. He then cleared them away from the opening towards the entrance again, still watching the crack intently.

While nothing happened, Feuilly sighed deeply and stated in a low voice: “We need to look for the mother.”

“You're right.”, agreed Enjolras and beckoned them to come out of the cave again, Combeferre only following very hesitantly while he kept shooting glances to the crack from time to time, “The pup won't make it much longer without the mother. Feuilly, we need to get Grantaire and Lesgles here. And better bring Syrah than Lucky, she can be a little more... sensible than Lesgles' dragon. Ask Jehan to help you bring them here, I know he doesn't like patrol but this is urgent. A life is at risk!”

“All right.”, agreed Feuilly and strode off, not without stepping to Bahorel, grabbing him fondly by the neck to pull him down in a quick goodbye-kiss. Bahorel was still grinning when Feuilly vanished around the boulder and Swoboda shot up into the air not a moment later.

“Bahorel”, addressed Enjolras the burly man, “You and I will go scouting for the mother. Try the surrounding mountains first, look for traces of a fight. Ruby and I will make sure that she's not in the woods. If you find her, bring her here immediately.”

“Gotcha, boss.”, smiled Bahorel and put on his mask, jogging around the bolder to take off with Lamia who screeched piercing as a goodbye.

Enjolras turned to Combeferre who was already distracted again by the crack. Enjolras shook his head to himself, struggling with the annoyance that was clearly showing in his eyes. Courfeyrac wondered if Enjolras knew how easily he could read in those blue eyes and if it would bother him if he knew.

“Ferre”, said Enjolras a little tight-voiced and waited until the eyes of his lieutenant were on him again, “I will leave you and Courfeyrac here. Don't try anything while we're gone.”

“I never tried anything, Enj, I'm...”, tried Combeferre to defend himself but Enjolras just raised both eyebrows at him, cocking his head in a suggestive way. Combeferre interrupted himself mid-sentence and sighed, saying: “All right, I will watch the crack and not try anything.”

“Good boy.”, said Enjolras, patted the taller Combeferre's shoulder for a moment and strode off. Before he could round the boulder though, he hesitated in his steps and turned to Courfeyrac again. Combeferre was back in the cave, sitting down at the wall opposite the crack, knees drawn to his chest, lower arms resting on his knees.

When Enjolras was with Courfeyrac, he only then recognized that the blond man was about half a head taller than him. He towered Courfeyrac in a slightly threatening way and glared down at him, something unsettling and terrifying in his blue eyes as he muttered: “If you try anything, First Hunter... let me tell you that he's my _best_ _friend_ and if anything happens to him... or any other of my friends... I will open you up with a letter opener, carve out your innards with a blunt spoon and feed your still bloody heart to my dragon, do you understand?”

Courfeyrac nodded hastily while Enjolras made a step back, Courfeyrac's mouth dry and his tongue too heavy to answer. Enjolras was a passionate, intelligent and beautiful man – a man Courfeyrac had learned to like –, his whole appearance aesthetic in a way that could not be created by the hands of men but by a greater power or the ambitious chisel of a sculptor striving for perfection. But in right that moment, with those cold biting words and the cruel spark in his eyes, Courfeyrac understood that there was something wild, something dangerous and terrible underneath that perfect face. And he did not want to ever see it break free.

Enjolras was glaring intently at him while he backed away two more steps and when he turned around, Courfeyrac nearly deflated and had to prop himself up on his cane more than in other moments. His heart was thumping heavily and his hands were cold while he turned around and spied at Combeferre. He was still sitting by the wall, enraptured by the crack opposite from him, the piece of meat still lying where he had left it.

Courfeyrac did not really know what to do with himself, so he stepped towards the edge of the plateau and watched Bahorel and Lamia circle in the sky, looking for the mother, while Enjolras and Ruby were racing as a red dot over the vast, lush green woods in the distance.

“Come sit down.”, interrupted Combeferre his brooding over Enjolras' words and Courfeyrac turned around. Combeferre was patting the stone next to him, smiling lightly at Courfeyrac before he went on: “Joly will behead me with bare hands and not mind the unsanitary conditions of that act if I not make you go easier on your calf.”

Courfeyrac sighed and limped over to him, sitting down awkwardly while his calf was indeed pulsing a little with discomfort. He put the cane down and looked at Combeferre, cocking his head slightly, pretending to be calm even if Enjolras' words still troubled him.

“He's a bit... overly cautious, isn't he? Joly, I mean.”, asked Courfeyrac and made sure that neither their thighs nor their shoulders or arms were touching. Combeferre would definitely not miss the blush that would creep onto Courfeyrac's cheeks from up close and he did not want to risk that awkwardness.

“He can be, yes.”, smiled Combeferre and fiddled with a loose thread at the hem of his sleeve, “But that sometimes makes him the best healer I know. He thinks of everything.”

Courfeyrac cocked his head at Combeferre and raised both eyebrows in a suggestive way, a daring expression on his face while he watched Combeferre blush – god, could that man be more endearing? – and then mutter: “Well, almost everything. But he's a great healer. The best.”

“And you?”, asked Courfeyrac carefully, “Marius told me you are a healer too.”

Combeferre laughed quietly, a sound that made Courfeyrac's ears ring pleasantly and those butterflies break loose in his stomach again while he felt a smile spreading on his face as well. Combeferre's laughter died away and still echoed a little in the cave when he replied: “He exaggerated. I am more of a nurse than a healer.”

“But he said you went to the academy!?”, held Courfeyrac against Combeferre's words, not wanting to let anybody – and even if that somebody happened to be Combeferre – ruin the perfect picture of that gorgeous rider that he had painted in his lonely hours in Grantaire's chamber.

“I did.”, agreed Combeferre and went back to fiddling with the thread, “But I left before I finished my training.”

“Why?”

“Because I met her...”, said Combeferre quietly and looked to the entrance where Parthenope had appeared. Courfeyrac jumped about the sight, wondering how such a large and heavy animal could sneak up on him like that. Courfeyrac looked back and forth between Combeferre and Parthenope and felt a jealous sting in his guts when he saw the fondness in Combeferre's eyes.

“So you threw away all your chances of a life as one of the most respected people in our community to live in a damp, dark cave with a bunch of rascals and a herd of dragons?”, asked Courfeyrac teasing and found relieved that Combeferre was looking at him again, a small furrow between his brows while he watched Courfeyrac intently.

“We already told you.”, he said quietly and looked back to the crack where nothing of the baby dragon was to be seen, “You can't understand. You never felt the fire of your dragon, you don't know what's been missing in your life. It is...”, he huffed a soft little laugh that made the butterflies start a revolt in Courfeyrac's stomach, “You would give up all the riches, all the reputation and all the comforts of life in order to be with your dragon.”

“Even if that locked you up with people like Bahorel and Grantaire?”, asked Courfeyrac cheeky, actually liking the two men but wanting to draw Combeferre out of his shell.

Combeferre – being as intelligent as he was – looked through that teasing in an instant and replied with a daring smile: “If that means not having to share a city with the likes of you and Monsieur Pontmercy, then yes.”

Courfeyrac laughed loud and startled Parthenope who had settled down outside the cave, relishing in the sun beams of the early morning that slowly shifted into noon. Combeferre was smiling to himself while Courfeyrac wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, thinking that if Combeferre was that good looking, excitable and above all had a perky sense of humour, Courfeyrac was doomed.

Silence settled over them for a moment in which Combeferre was captured by a movement in the depth of the crack, lowering his head to look into the darkness. Courfeyrac watched him a moment and decided to learn more about this man.

“So”, he began and waited for Combeferre to look at him again. When he did, he continued: “How did you meet her then? Did she swoop in and... set your pyjamas on fire?”

“No.”, chuckled Combeferre and stretched out his legs, folding his hands in his lap, “Far from it. I knew Enjolras about three weeks... or four, I don't remember. I've met him and Ruby while I've been out looking for herbs for my herbalism class. I was twelve or eleven, I think. I got into talking with him because Ruby had a bloody gash over her eye that had started to fester and he approached me for help. We somehow... stuck together.”

“And he introduced you to Parthenope?”, asked Courfeyrac eager.

“No, Ruby and her were fighting over a fish one day when Enjolras and I went swimming on a hot summer day. She was as young as Ruby and was trying to perfect her hunting skills. You know, water breeders are astonishing dragons, they breed by the water because their scales only get hard when the air is humid enough. And when they grow older, they hunt fish and small water birds. The fish hunting is especially interesting. You see that long claw on their front legs?”, asked Combeferre and pointed to Parthenope, waiting until Courfeyrac nodded.

Then he went on to explain how they used those claws as spears to spear up the fish close to the surface. Courfeyrac was only listening half-heartedly, watching Combeferre's slender hands move in unison with his words, gesticulating in small, precise gestures while his face glowed again with the same light that Courfeyrac had seen in his eyes when he had talked about the stone chewer baby. Courfeyrac started smiling lightly while Combeferre went into raptures about the race of his companion and seemed unable to find an end to his tale.

Something soft and warm spread through Courfeyrac while he was watching the excited rider talk about the beasts that Courfeyrac had been taught to fear like nothing else in his life. Courfeyrac could not take his eyes off Combeferre and when the rider started touching his thigh with a careful gesture each time he wanted to draw Courfeyrac's attention to a certain feature of Parthenope's physicality, Courfeyrac felt how he blushed and grinned like a lovestruck fool.

He wondered how Combeferre would talk about a person who was dear to him, if he would have the same sparkle in his dark eyes when he talked about them sharing breakfast with him, talking with him about the last book they had both read and going through the crucial scenes or thesis of the work or cuddling on the sofa in the evening after a long day. Because god knew Courfeyrac would do all those things and more if it made Combeferre happy.

Mortified – struggling that his thoughts didn't show in his eyes or on his face – Courfeyrac felt reality set back in. Combeferre was a dragon rider, he was a rebel and a hunted criminal. Courfeyrac was the leading commander of the executive forces of the realm Combeferre and his friend terrorized and he was a hostage of those men. Why was he thinking that Combeferre would ever want to do those things with him? He would demand a ransom for him and Marius and would take the money and leave him. That was reality.

“... and that was what she was doing at the moment. Well, technically the fish was already dead and in Ruby's mouth, but that doesn't matter.”, closed Combeferre his account of the hunting technique of the water breeders, “And well... Enjolras ran to them to save Ruby, terrified Parthenope would do something to her and I followed. Parthenope was equally terrified of us and breathed fire to defend herself. Luckily I was standing in front of Enjolras so he only had minor burns... And I had a dragon.”

“That's...”, started Courfeyrac while Combeferre was looking expectant at him, his brows furrowing slightly when he saw the dark cloud hanging over Courfeyrac's head, “That's a nice story. Ehm... Congratulations?!”

“Thank you...”, murmured Combeferre and cocked his head quizzically, “Is... is something wrong, Courfeyrac? Does your leg hurt?”

“Does my...?”, repeated Courfeyrac confused but shook his head fast then, “Oh, oh no. That's fine, thanks for asking. I'm just... I was...”

Courfeyrac interrupted himself when a blast of wind swept through the cave and Parthenope struggled to her feet to make space for Swoboda swooping down. Combeferre scrambled to his feet as well and strode to the entrance of the cave while Courfeyrac remained where he was, hitting his head back against the stone a little harder then he wanted to make the awkward feeling about his inability to behave like a normal human being around Combeferre go away.

“Where is the baby?”, asked Grantaire excited and slid from Swoboda's back, a leather backpack slung around his shoulder while he pushed the leather mask from his face and into his hair, Syrah landing with a lot of flapping next to him.

“She's hiding in a crack in the cave.”, explained Combeferre and lead Grantaire and Syrah into the cave where Grantaire nodded at Courfeyrac in lieu of a greeting, “And I think it's a girl. She's got those pale green spots around the eyes, if I've seen correctly.”

“And you think she's really a stromatolite stone chewer pup?”, asked Grantaire excited and knelt down in some distance to the crack, taking down the backpack and opening it slowly, “You know that those normally don't live around here. The stone of the mountains contains too much granite for their taste. It's highly unlikely that...”

“No!”, hushed Combeferre and knelt down next to Grantaire, grasping his shoulder intently, his enthusiasm back, “R, I _saw_ her wings. She is a stone chewer, I swear.”

“Well...”, interrupted Bousset's voice from the entrance of the cave and Courfeyrac looked over to find him and Jehan enter the cave, Ophelia rubbing her head against Parthenope's as a greeting while Feuilly was staying on the plateau as a look-out, “We won't know for sure until we have her out of that crack, will we?”

He knelt down next to Grantaire and they started talking in hushed voices, Combeferre staying where he was not to miss a thing.

“Have you ever seen one?”, asked Jehan in a quiet voice and for the second time in one day Courfeyrac jumped because someone had snug up on him. Jehan was sitting down next to him, crossing his legs slowly while he smiled softly at Courfeyrac, cocking his head.

“A stone chewer?”, Courfeyrac asked startled because Grantaire had right now told them how rare they were.

Jehan chuckled and shook his head: “No, a baby dragon.”

“Oh...”, breathed Courfeyrac and felt heat rising in his cheeks, “No, no I haven't.”

“They are the most adorable creatures this world has to offer.”, said Jehan and looked back to where Grantaire was scratching Syrah underneath one horn and talked to her in a hushed whisper, “They are perfection, they don't need to grow out of their stumbling legs or clumsy hands like we need to. A baby dragon is able to fly half an hour after birth and they are capable of breathing fire after the first bite of meat that their mother brings them.”

“Interesting...”, muttered Courfeyrac but smiled at the lithe man whose soft eyes were glinting enthusiastic. They turned their attention back to the three men when Grantaire patted Syrah's head once more and told her: “All right, girl, go on.”

Syrah licked Grantaire's hand once more, then she turned around and slowly and most carefully approached the crack in the stone. She was doing the same humming-purring-grumbling noise that Chimera had used to lull Courfeyrac back to sleep while she hunkered down and nudged the slice of meat closer to the entrance of the crack.

“Chéri...”, mumbled Grantaire and crept closer to Syrah and the crack, offering her a few more slices of meat in his open palm. Syrah turned her head and most tenderly plucked a bit of meat out of the offered pile, turning back to the crack, still humming-purring-grumbling through closed jaws.

Suddenly – without seeing what had caused it – Courfeyrac heard Combeferre gasp and if he hadn't developed an almighty crush on this rider already, that would have been the straw that broke the camels back. He looked over at the rider and followed his delighted eyes back to the crack where indeed something was moving.

“Quiet now.”, hushed Bousset and put a hand on Combeferre's shoulder to make him stop the tiny, intrigued and enthusiastic sounds that he was making. Courfeyrac shook his head about this overload of adorable and watched the proceedings at the entrance of the crack.

Syrah had stretched out her neck as far as she could, the meat still dangling from her teeth while she purred tempting. The movements in the crack got a little bolder although they were still frightened and hesitant. Slowly, carefully, with quiet cheeping noises, a small, fragile looking snout was outlined against the darkness.

Courfeyrac narrowed his eyebrows and squinted a little to see clearer. A small dragon, the body in the shape of a very slender, very thin little cat with a lizard's head emerged from the darkness. The scales were of the colour of the shortbread that had always been served at court while darker veins seemed to run all over the body of the dragon. The eyes were huge and of a glowing dandelion yellow and Courfeyrac was astonished to see the pupils formed like dark slits in the glowing glare.

“What the...”, he breathed but Grantaire just raised a hand without looking at him. Syrah kept purring and lowered the meat towards the baby until the smaller dragon raised on hind legs and carefully took the meat from Syrah.

Courfeyrac heard how Bousset and Grantaire exhaled relieved in unison and exchanged a quick smile. Combeferre was staring wide eyed at the baby and Jehan was pressing his hands to his lips, his eyes sparkling with joy. Feuilly stood at the entrance of the cave and scratched Swoboda's neck, looking as pleased as the others.

Looking back at the baby, Courfeyrac had to admit that she was an adorable little thing with her gigantic eyes, her big head and her clumsy movements. She chewed thoughtfully on the meat and Courfeyrac watched even more amazed how the pupils turned round after she had swallowed.

Syrah backed away carefully, intently glaring at the baby while she sat down next to Grantaire, rubbing her head into the offered palm while the baby dragon was watching interested. Grantaire carefully and slowly stuck his hand into the backpack and drew out a little more meat, offering it to Syrah who deliberately made a show of taking it out of Grantaire's palm and chewing it in delight.

The baby dragon kept sniffing the air while she slowly crawled out of the crack towards Syrah and Grantaire, her eyes flicking to the other humans in the cave while she seemed to try to determine whether they were a threat or not. When she was standing directly in front of Grantaire and Syrah, shivering all over, she seemed to believe that she was safe and carefully placed a claw on Grantaire's knee as if to beg him for some meat.

Grantaire smiled and started feeding the baby a few slices of meat that she devoured hastily. Bousset had crept closer carefully and placed a hand on the back of the baby just between her folded wings. He looked up at Grantaire very concerned while the young man with the dark curls struggled to deliver the amount of meat that the baby demanded out of his backpack in time.

“Ferre was right, she's a girl.”, murmured Grantaire and pointed carefully to the light green freckles around her eyes.

“And she's chilled to the bone and much too thin for a newborn.”, replied Bousset and sounded very worried. Courfeyrac watched Grantaire eye her critically, then the curly rider sighed and nodded.

“I'm afraid neither Bahorel nor Enjolras will find the mother.”, declared Grantaire while the baby was licking his palm after he had run out of meat.

Combeferre was carefully reaching into the small pocket and drew out some more meat, the gleaming eyes of the dragon-baby darting to him before she stumbled over to him, devouring the meat scraps Combeferre offered.

“Poor thing...”, sighed Jehan and Courfeyrac saw how shattered the young man at his side seemed.

“You think she left her baby?”, asked Courfeyrac and watched Combeferre pat the head of the baby who seemed uncertain what to do with herself now that there seemed no meat left in the cave.

“I think the likes of you killed her.”, snapped Grantaire and glared for a moment at him, then his eyes softened and he rubbed his eyes for a moment before he murmured: “Sorry, I didn't mean to...”

“Grantaire...”, breathed Combeferre and everyone turned to him.

The baby was stretching lazily and had spread her wings wide. Courfeyrac's breath hitched in his throat. He had never seen wings like that on a dragon. The normally thin, uni-coloured skin around the fragile bones was showing a complicated pattern on the skin of the baby. Different shades of brown, ranging from a soft crème tone to a dark, almost black glossy brown wove waives and lines along the short side of the wings and seemed to be made of softer, smaller scales than the rest of the body. The patterns were simply breathtaking.

“Shit, it _is_ a stromatolite stone chewer...”, whispered Bousset in awe and watched Combeferre who was grinning excited, offering his palm to the dragon-baby who was rubbing her small head into the offered warmth.

“No...”, contradicted Grantaire and looked at Combeferre, his eyes wide, “That's no stromatolite. They don't like the granite in the stone, I told you. That's a viper's bugloss moth-wing...”

“Draconis hadena irregularis.”, smiled Combeferre and looked back at the baby, “One of the oldest dragon races in the world.”

“And one of the most threatened.”, added Feuilly who was coming into the cave now as well, “They are nearly extinct because they were hunted for their wing scales that no other dragon breed shows. They were used for traditional medicine before some of the herbs we use today were discovered.”

“I never thought I would see one of these alive.”, whispered Combeferre taken aback and carefully scratched the baby-dragon under the chin.

“I pray that Enjolras or Bahorel will find the mother.”, said Jehan quietly and got up as well while Grantaire and Bousset seemed to recover from the surprise of seeing the wings and got back to caring for the baby. Grantaire drew out a blanket from the depth of this backpack and carefully unfolded it.

“I didn't think she would be that chilled through.”, he muttered while Combeferre had started eyeing the dragon-baby intently, running his fingers over the darker veins on the scales of her back and along the edges of her wings.

Courfeyrac caught a movement at the entrance of the cave in the corner of his eye and turned his head to see Parthenope literally scowling at Combeferre whose whole attention was directed at the baby. Their eyes met for a brief moment when Parthenope looked over at him and Courfeyrac thought that she probably felt now like he had felt a moment ago when Combeferre had gone into raptures about her.

“The blanket isn't nearly sufficient.”, agreed Bousset and dug through his messenger-bag but found nothing that suited his purpose, “Anyone able to spare his shirt?”

The riders looked surprised at Bousset who grinned cheeky back while Courfeyrac's eyes wandered over the assembled men. They all wore plain linen shirts under their cuirasses and would most likely freeze to death during the flight home if they took them off. He sighed and struggled to his feet, Jehan grabbing his arm to help him until he stood steady, his weight distributed between his good leg and the cane.

“Here.”, said Courfeyrac and started unbuttoning the waistcoat he wore, “You can use this. You'll catch your deaths if you take off your shirts.”

“Brilliant idea!”, said Bousset and his eyes glinted happily while he got up and took the waistcoat of Courfeyrac to go over to Combeferre and the baby.

“There's more to you than just a pretty face, it seems.”, joked Grantaire and winked at Courfeyrac thankfully while Bousset carefully convinced the baby that the waistcoat was no danger. As soon as he had wrapped her up in the body-warm cloth, the dragon huffed and cheeped happily, nuzzling deeper into the offered warmth while Bousset swooped her up in his arms.

Before anyone could say anything, a voice from the entrance of the cave interrupted them: “We found her.”

Bahorel and Enjolras had come around the boulder and seemed – in Bahorel's case – downcast and – in Enjolras' case – fuming with anger. Enjolras strode into the middle of the loose circle his men formed and started to recount their scouting flight: “She has been hunting for the baby, we think. It must have been a hunting party from the castle. They were quick and efficient. They left the corpse on the clearing and took the head, like they always do. The wings were ripped and skinned, leaving bare bones and a few scraps of bloody tissue. She's been dead at least for two days.”

Jehan clasped both hands to his lips and Grantaire had taken on the colour of dirty sheets while Combeferre's mouth stood slightly agape, his eyes behind the glasses dark and sad. Feuilly kept shaking his head, leaving the cave to pat Swoboda. Enjolras turned to Courfeyrac and glared at him for a moment. Courfeyrac already feared he would be executed as a revenge on the hunters, when Bousset cut in: “In that case we need to get her back to our cave. Musichetta and Joly should have a look at her.”

“You're right.”, agreed Combeferre and patted the head of the baby in Bousset's arms while Grantaire went to Enjolras, touching his hand only slightly, talking to him in a hushed voice while Enjolras seemed to calm down slowly, sadness replacing the anger on his face, “We need to get her out of here.”

“Yes.”, tuned Enjolras himself in again, Grantaire stepping back to gather his backpack, “We should do that. Jehan, will Ophelia be able to transport the baby as well?”

“I'm afraid she might not like having another dragon on her back. You know that she can be very sensible about such things.”, declared Jehan concerned and wrung his hands a little, Ophelia raising her head from her legs when she had heard her name.

Enjolras groaned but before he could say anything, Combeferre offered: “Parthenope has no problems with that. Courfeyrac and I will take her back.”

“Are you sure?”, asked Enjolras and exchanged a long glance with Combeferre before is lieutenant nodded confirming, “Fine. Then you'll take her. Bousset...”

With a nod towards Courfeyrac, Enjolras left the cave, followed by Grantaire, Jehan and Bahorel. Courfeyrac turned and found Bousset striding towards him, cooing softly at the baby. He looked up when he had reached the First Hunter and smiled.

“She's a really good girl.”, he said fondly and smiled at him, “Doesn't struggle much. I'm sure she's just relishing the warmth after being cooled down so much. Here...”

Carefully Bousset unloaded the baby into Courfeyrac's arms whose heart was speeding from fear of dropping her, of hurting her, of doing anything wrong which would cause her harm. The baby weighed almost nothing, she was light as a feather and a little cool even through the fabric of the waistcoat. Bousset stooped to gather up the blanket, folding it over the baby inside the waistcoat and stepped around Courfeyrac to tie the ends of the blanket in his neck and around his waist.

“There you go. It's not perfect but definitely better than having to hold her tight for the whole flight.”, declared Bousset and made a step back, stumbling over his messenger-bag and only catching himself at Combeferre's shoulder while Feuilly at the entrance chuckled.

Slowly Courfeyrac drew his arms out from under the blanket and wrapped one around the butt of the baby once more, feeling the blanket taking the weight of the baby now. She cheeped delighted once more and snuggled closer to his chest, Courfeyrac feeling her heartbeat against his own skin.

“Are we good to go?”, asked Feuilly and watched them expectant while Combeferre shot Courfeyrac a glance that he could not quite place before hurrying out to Parthenope who was indeed in a huff because Combeferre had ignored her for so long in favour of another dragon.

“Yes.”, sighed Courfeyrac and limped out of the cave, feeling utterly vulnerable now that he was taking care of the small creature at his chest.

When Courfeyrac stepped out into the sun, he saw Ruby and Enjolras dart into the sky, building the vanguard as on the way here. Grantaire already sat behind Feuilly on Swoboda's back and Bousset was just scrambling up behind Jehan when Courfeyrac stepped to Parthenope. Combeferre had not yet mounted and made his dragon lie down. When he felt Courfeyrac step behind him, he shot him a friendly smile and stated: “I think it's best you sit in front of me this time, so the baby won't be squashed between us.”

“Ehm... all right.”, said Courfeyrac carefully and watched Combeferre build a bowl with his hands to offer him a leg-up. Courfeyrac sighed, hung the cane into the nook and placed his foot in Combeferre's hands.

“Ready?”, asked Combeferre.

“I guess.”

With a mighty push Combeferre delivered Courfeyrac up the side of the dragon until he could grasp the pommel of the saddle and hoist a leg over the back of Parthenope. The baby was cheeping excited and clawed into Courfeyrac's skin which made him wince. The little bastard had really sharp tiny claws already. Parthenope got up, Courfeyrac clinging to the pommel for dear life, while Combeferre climbed up much more elegantly behind him.

If Courfeyrac had thought that clinging to Combeferre's muscular back had been bad, this was living hell. Combeferre's strong thighs pressed against his from behind and Courfeyrac was overly aware that Combeferre's crotch was pressed against his backside. Slowly and carefully, Combeferre wrapped an arm around Courfeyrac's waist, placing a reassuring hand on the lower half of Courfeyrac's stomach. Courfeyrac prayed to all deities he could think of that Combeferre did not feel how tense he was.

“Is this fine for you?”, asked Combeferre and god-damn-it, his breath was swooping along the side of Courfeyrac's neck and raised goosebumps all over his skin. Courfeyrac nodded hastily, not trusting his voice in that moment.

“Good.”, said Combeferre and dragged his mask over his head, offering the spare mask that had hung at the nook on the other side of the saddle to Courfeyrac who put it on as well, “Just hold onto the pommel and trust me that I won't drop you.”

Although he had already done it once, Courfeyrac had not yet grown accustomed to a take off on the back of a dragon. He clasped the baby tight while Parthenope leaped into the sky and felt how he got pressed back against Combeferre whose arm was still around him, the other holding the reins at Courfeyrac's other side. This time, the flight got calmer soon and Courfeyrac opened his eyes again.

Ruby was circling in the sky a little in front of them while Swoboda and Ophelia were taking off as well, Syrah keeping at Swoboda's side to be close to Grantaire. Bahorel and Lamia were the last ones in the sky and as soon as they had ascended, the dragons set off in loose formation.

Courfeyrac held the moth-wing-baby close to himself, feeling her quick heartbeat against his own skin while he shivered in the cold wind without his waistcoat. He was trying to breath deeply and keep calm not to stress her but did not fully succeed. He felt her shifting under the blanket and held her a little tighter. She calmed down and her claws pinched him again, making him jump lightly.

Combeferre's hand on his stomach started to caress him carefully in small circles and Courfeyrac thought he was suffering a heart-attack there and then. He forced himself to relax and calm down and Combeferre's hand stilled immediately. This was worse than any nightmare Courfeyrac had ever had and he wished that the end of their flight would be there rather sooner than later.

He just had thought that when Syrah flew across their path just inches in front of Courfeyrac who jumped so much that he was ending up flailing for purchase because he had let got the pommel and now dipped to the side where Combeferre's arm was not holding him. Parthenope swooped to the side and so stabilized him while Combeferre was cursing under his mask, words inaudible for Courfeyrac. He felt Combeferre turn around and did the same thing while patting the nervous baby at his chest.

They saw Grantaire waiving with both arms at them, pointing behind them into the blue of the morning sky. Courfeyrac was a little confused about the waiving but then saw what Grantaire wanted to show them: a bright yellow spot came rushing towards them in breakneck speed.

Courfeyrac's eyes widened and he felt panic rising in his throat. Combeferre's arm around him tightened and pressed him closer to his chest while he bent forward slightly, still casting glances over his shoulder.

Courfeyrac saw Enjolras and Ruby speed towards them, u-turning in front of them to fly close to them, Parthenope's snout nearly touching Ruby's tail while Bahorel and Lamia closed up on them, Lamia's long neck aligned with Parthenope's tail. Swoboda appeared to their right, her left wing overlapping with Parthenope's while they flew slightly above them. Ophelia was there as well, slightly beneath them to their left, her head turning back to check on the approaching danger from time to time.

Courfeyrac looked back as well when the formation was built up. The yellow dragon was so close now that Courfeyrac could determine its race. The blood froze in his veins as he saw the resemblance to Lamia, only that the scales of the approaching dragon were not coloured in oranges but in bright yellows, the beak-like snout just a little more edgy and sharp, the eyes a little narrower and the claws a little longer: a citron parachute on the kill.

Courfeyrac clutched the baby closer to his chest and looked forwards towards where Enjolras was checking over his shoulder what the dragon in pursuit was doing. Courfeyrac saw the head-shake before Enjolras looked forward again, then the leader on the red dragon raised a hand, fingers pressed flush together. After a moment, he spread them so that all five stood as far ajar as possible. He held the open hand up a few moments, then he closed the fingers to a fist.

The formation broke. Enjolras and Ruby sped vertically up into the sky which seemed to be a speciality of theirs, vanishing into the fluffy clouds over their heads. Lamia and Bahorel flung themselves into a nosedive and vanished into a canyon in the mountain ridge to their right. Ophelia made a 90 degree turn and headed off towards the lush green woods in the distance. Swoboda stretched herself longer, Syrah closing her jaws carefully around the strap of reigns that Feuilly flung at her, then Swoboda took off and Courfeyrac wondered where she had that speed from.

Combeferre pressed Courfeyrac down further onto Parthenope's back and dug his heels into Parthenope's flanks, the azure water breeder went also in a dive, heading for a canyon to their left, away from the rebel camp. The canyon turned out to be the course of a river that had gnawed itself into the stone over the time. Water gurgled beneath them and spray descended on Courfeyrac's hair and his shirt while Parthenope darted along the winding turns of the river, close above the water, turning and bending to fly even faster around the bends and turns in the course.

Courfeyrac tried to look over his shoulder but all he could see was Combeferre sitting behind him, his body shielding him and the baby so that no attack from above could reach them. Something warm bloomed in Courfeyrac's chest although the cold fist of fear was still curled around his guts. The screech of a dragon on the kill tickled their ears and the baby shivered in Courfeyrac's arms, her tiny claws piercing his skin in search of safety.

They followed the river for a long while in breakneck speed, the screeches dying down in the air behind them. After a while, Courfeyrac recognized how Combeferre slowly relaxed and sat up a little more, looking over his shoulder while his arm was still looped around Courfeyrac, holding him tighter than maybe necessary. Parthenope slowed down a little, sailing in the air over the stream, taking deep breaths while her wings flapped slower. Courfeyrac looked over his shoulder and Combeferre let go the reins for a second to push the mask out of his face. He was pale, his pupils wide from adrenaline and sweat was pouring over his forehead onto his brows.

“Are you all right?”, he asked Courfeyrac who nodded, all words banished from his thoughts while the immediate danger from a moment before was still tightening his throat. Combeferre looked over his shoulder and sighed, looking back at Courfeyrac afterwards. They made eye contact for a long while and Courfeyrac was searching for words, for something to say in this situation as the rumbling and mumbling of a waterfall came into earshot.

Courfeyrac turned around while Combeferre lowered his mask again, gathering up the reins while Parthenope led them towards the waterfall with slow flaps. Combeferre's voice was muffled by the leather and nearly drowned out by the sound of the waterfall as he told Courfeyrac: “I think it is safe to return now. The citron parachute should be gone.”

Carefully Combeferre nudged Parthenope towards the opening of the deep canyon where the water fell into the depth. Courfeyrac relaxed and slung an arm around the shivering baby-dragon at his chest. The sunlight streamed into the canyon and Courfeyrac thought that it had been a close shave.

A shadow blocked out the sun before they could shoot out of the mouth of the canyon and the screech, louder and closer than Courfeyrac had ever heard it, nearly deafened them. The citron parachute had appeared at the waterfall and blocked their escape, launching towards them in a vicious attack.

Parthenope bent backwards and made a backflip in the air while turning around her own centre. Courfeyrac clung to the pommel for dear life while she changed the direction in the blink of an eye and sped away the way they had come. Combeferre was cursing under his mask but Courfeyrac did not understand him while his heart was drumming in his chest.

The parachute screeched wild and pursued them along the coarse of the river. Courfeyrac looked over his shoulder and saw frightened that it caught up with them with every flap of its mighty wings. Combeferre pressed him tighter to his chest, nearly squeezing all air out of Courfeyrac's lungs. Parthenope was struggling to keep the speed up while they darted through the canyon. Courfeyrac looked back again.

The jaws of the citron parachute were opened wide and it snapped vicious for Parthenope's tail, only ever missing it for a few inch. Courfeyrac heard a scared whimper from the baby and saw Combeferre look back as well.

“We are too slow!”, yelled Courfeyrac over the howling of the wind in his ears. Combeferre's arm tightened and his fist in which he held the reigns shook. He looked back once more, then he yelled at Courfeyrac: “Hold on tight!”

Combeferre leaned back and Parthenope followed the command and ascended almost vertically up into the air. She was struggling to make the ascend as quick as Ruby but it did the trick. The parachute was bluffed and could not change direction fast enough, still following the river while Parthenope carried them out of the canyon and into the open sky. Combeferre leaned to his left after they left the rock behind and Parthenope followed, taking up speed again.

Courfeyrac kept scanning the canyon under them and let go of the pommel to indicate to Combeferre that his idea had been good, but had not saved them. The parachute darted out of the canyon and turned around its own centre to pursue them further. Combeferre cursed and leaned down, pressing Courfeyrac down as well while Parthenope was breathing hard, her snout opened with exertion.

Courfeyrac kept down this time, shielding the baby with his body while he in turns was shielded by Combeferre. If something happened to him... Courfeyrac blinked the thoughts away and cast a glance back while Parthenope kept zigzagging through the air. He shouted shocked when he saw the parachute attack.

Its blast of fire flew past them, the heat flaring in the air while Combeferre had commanded Parthenope in a sharp left-turn. The parachute screeched infuriated and followed, closing up at them. It was nearly completely next to Parthenope by the time Courfeyrac could turn his head again to look for it. The parachute screeched and made a vicious slapping motion with its left wing. The sparkling claws at the edge of the wings drew three crimson streaks over Parthenope's wing and the dragon lost its rhythm for a moment, tumbling a few feet down, howling in pain.

Combeferre screamed in agony and a shiver went through his body while he let go off the reigns – but not of Courfeyrac – to reach out a hand towards the injured wing that sprayed blood droplets into the air as if he could somehow take away the injury. Courfeyrac took his hand from the pommel and pressed it onto Combeferre's that lay on his stomach, twitching in horror and agony. He remembered how Marius had told him that riders had a special bond to their dragons, experiencing the same pain they did. Courfeyrac dreaded to imagine what the injury in Parthenope's wing did to Combeferre.

Courfeyrac turned his head and saw the parachute speed towards them from above them. He had to do something, anything, or they would die there and then. Combeferre and Parthenope could pay no mind to the threat above them right now, both captured in the pain and agony they both felt in one way or the other. The parachute whizzed over their heads, its tail whipping down to blind Parthenope, but missing her as she was still tumbling more than flying. Instead the sharp slap ran over Courfeyrac's mask and tore it right off, leaving Courfeyrac screaming more from shock than from pain.

He heard Combeferre yell and felt him shake behind himself, but he was fine and squeezed Combeferre's hand in an attempt to calm him. The wind blinded him and nearly took his breath away while he tried to see through the curtain of tears in his eyes. Now he understood why the riders wore the masks, without one, one was nearly helpless. What Courfeyrac could see though was the parachute turning around to attack again. They were helpless, Courfeyrac thought, while Combeferre and Parthenope still struggled to get back to a normal flight. Then Courfeyrac looked down at the saddle and his eyes caught on Joly's lucky cane.

He let go off Combeferre's hand and reached down, drawing the cane like a sword out of a scabbard. When he turned towards the attacking dragon again, he saw the opened snout and the narrow black eyes glaring full of hatred at them while it was only a few meters away. Courfeyrac swung the cane towards the dragon, attempting to pierce one of its eyes to defend them, but missing the dragon a little as the parachute tried to turn away. Instead the cane scratched along the beak-like snout and drew a bloody streak over the cheek and across the eye of the dragon.

Courfeyrac flinched from the impact and felt his blood freeze in his veins and a sharp pang of pain shoot through his head while the parachute screeched ear-splitting. The dragon turned away and tumbled through the air towards a close mountain, blinded by the blood trickling out of the gash inflicted through the cane that Courfeyrac still held raised in the air, the tip blinking bloody. The parachute left and did not turn on them again, vanishing into the distance.

Combeferre was shaking frantically behind Courfeyrac while Parthenope seemed to struggle to use the injured wing properly. Courfeyrac got aware that the reins were still dangling over Parthenope's neck while Combeferre was busy patting her shoulder and holding Courfeyrac – or to be more precise: to hold onto Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac sighed, slung one arm around the baby and gathered up the reins. He had no idea what he was doing but he thought that Parthenope might need the reassurance that there was still someone who could guide her back to safety, who was there to be with her through all this pain. Courfeyrac imagined that Parthenope probably knew that her injury – as bad as it must pain her – would also inflict pain on Combeferre and felt probably even worse about that.

Courfeyrac tugged carefully at the reins as he would do with a horse and felt Parthenope respond. She raised her head and the irregular rhythm of her flapping turned a little more even. Courfeyrac sighed deeply and looked around hesitantly while he gave Parthenope the little guidance he could offer. Combeferre's hand on his stomach twitched again and Courfeyrac let go off the baby whose tiny claws had been buried in his flesh ever since they had left the canyon to intertwine their fingers on his stomach, offering as much comfort as he could give to Combeferre.

His eyes found what they had been searching for: the mountain with the ripped off top. Carefully Courfeyrac tugged at the reins and turned Parthenope to their right, urging her with a soft press of his thighs towards the distant mountain. She had difficulty flying properly and lost and gained height every other moment. Courfeyrac's eyes burnt from the wind, his chest hurt were the tiny claws stuck in his flesh and his ears still rung from the last screech of the parachute, a vicious headache developing behind his eyes. But when Combeferre's forehead sagged against his neck and he felt the man behind him shake uncontrollably, he forgot all his discomfort and focused on bringing them home.

The flight seemed to take an eternity but finally Courfeyrac had guided them towards the mountain and made Parthenope descend into the cave slowly. The last few meter, Parthenope just gave up and fell, collapsing on the ground as soon as her claws had touched it.

Combeferre whelped like he himself was in pain and jumped off the back of his dragon, scrambling around her side and kneeling down between her head and the injured shoulder. He dragged the mask off his face and Courfeyrac saw the tears in his eyes, his face pale as death and his lower lip bloody from biting down on it hard.

Courfeyrac watched Grantaire and Musichetta hurry to Combeferre's side while the distressed rider had pressed his forehead to the scales above Parthenope's eye, caressing her snout with one hand while the other rested on her neck, words of apology, regret and fear bubbling over his lips while the dragon took deep, hissing breaths, watching Combeferre as concerned as he was watching her.

“Courfeyrac...”

Courfeyrac looked down the other side and saw Joly and Éponine stare up at him, concern and curiosity in equal measures in their eyes. Only then he recognized that he was still clasping the cane, bloody tip hanging down at Parthenope's side while his other hand was still curled around the reigns. He let them go hesitantly and deflated a little, the thudding headache making it hard for him to concentrate on what he was supposed to do.

“Let's get you off that dragon first.”, said Éponine gently while Courfeyrac's mouth was opening and closing as he was searching for words to explain. Joly stepped up to him and Éponine stepped onto Parthenope's leg after carefully touching the dragon. She climbed up and helped Courfeyrac down who was only then recognizing that he was shaking as well. Two shapes darkened the entrance of the cave and Ruby and Ophelia appeared in the blue of the sky.

Meanwhile Courfeyrac was on the ground and led away from Parthenope, his arms curled around the baby that was cheeping at him quietly. Éponine's arm was around Courfeyrac and Joly made him sit down on a wooden frame where normally the saddles rested. Bousset joined them a moment later and checked with a glance inside the blanket for the baby.

“I take her from here, Courfeyrac.”, he said gently and undid the knots in the blanket. Courfeyrac only let go hesitantly of the small dragon who whined a little while taken away. But as soon as Bousset held her close, hurrying away to find Cosette to help him tend to the baby-dragon, the whining stopped and she stilled in the protecting arms. A flare of jealousy and a feeling of betrayal shot through Courfeyrac while Joly gasped.

“Oh god, Courfeyrac, what happened?”, he inquired and bent down a little, pushing with his hands gently against Courfeyrac's shoulders so that he sat up a little straighter. Courfeyrac looked down at his own chest and only then detected the fine ripples of blood that had stained his shirt, descending from eight tiny wholes in his shirt.

“What happened?”, echoed the question through the cave again, but this time directed at everyone.

Courfeyrac watched Enjolras jump from Ruby's back before she had even touched the ground. The blond man dragged his mask off and tossed it away while he ran over to where Combeferre was kneeling next to Parthenope, still whispering to her, still pale and shaking. Enjolras fell to his knees next to him and put a hand into his neck, glaring intently at him and asking him quieter again. Combeferre just shook his head, unable to answer.

Joly had helped Courfeyrac out of the shirt and sent Jehan to get him water, towels and his satchel and was kneeling awkwardly in front of Courfeyrac to look at his small injuries. Enjolras looked up from his best friend and found Courfeyrac's eyes. Although he had expected that Enjolras would produce a letter opener and a blunt spoon from his pockets now to gut him, the blond man got up quickly and came to him, grasping his shoulder with a sympathetic expression in his eyes.

“What the hell happened out there after we split up?!”, he asked intently and Courfeyrac knew that debriefing was important for any at least slightly military organisation and so his own trained soldier instincts kicked in. He carefully pushed Joly off of him and looked up to Enjolras, trying to steady himself for the account.

“We... Combeferre and Parthenope decided to flee through a deep canyon, along the course of a river. We made... good progress and soon couldn't see the parachute anymore. We were about to turn back when...”, Courfeyrac had to stop and rub his eyes because the memory of the bright feather-like scales against the sun and the screech it gave upon seeing them still manages to make his blood freeze, “There was a waterfall. It hid beneath the fall and we didn't see it until it was too late. It pursued us... we weren't fast enough. It attacked Parthenope's wing...”

“Did it breath fire?”, asked Enjolras intently and removed his hand from Courfeyrac's shoulder.

“Yes.”, sighed Courfeyrac, “It did. But just once. Afterwards it intended to take Parthenope down. It injured her wing and tried to blind her.”

“How did you escape?”, asked Joly while he and Jehan started cleaning out the small cuts on Courfeyrac's chest.

“I... I took the cane when it approached again. It might have lost an eye...”, recapitulated Courfeyrac, the memory of the screech and the blood in the eye of the dragon made his own headache still grow while the ointment Joly spread on the cuts did not better his already half-shattered condition.

“Thank you for defending them when they couldn't help themselves.”, said Enjolras warmly and Courfeyrac looked up at him again, a new light in Enjolras' eyes while he was watching the First Hunter. Courfeyrac smiled a little shaken and waived off the gratitude shining on Enjolras' face.

“Don't mention it.”, he mumbled while Joly held out a hand and Enjolras dragged him to his feet.

“I think it is best we take him to Grantaire's room again. He needs rest...”, the pale young man said quietly to Enjolras who just nodded in agreement.

“I'm fine, don't worry.”, tried Courfeyrac to fend off Enjolras' hands while he wanted to help him up, “How's Combeferre? Is Parthenope going to be all right? What about the baby moth-wing?”

Enjolras and Joly chuckled a little about Courfeyrac's attempt to pretend that he was indeed fine but remained insistent about their plan to take him to Grantaire's. Enjolras grasped his arm and helped him up, shushing him when he wanted to protest: “They're in shock, both of them. It's no pleasure getting injured but when you or your dragon suffer, you suffer double. The wounds aren't too deep, that's what Grantaire and Musichetta said. She will be fine in a few days. And Bousset is taking care of the pup, don't worry.”

“Shouldn't I... ehm...”, asked Courfeyrac but before he could finish the end of his question – which would have been _look after Combeferre_ – he thought better of it and asked instead: “Shouldn't I better be put in the dungeon again now that I'm better?”

Enjolras bit back the smile again, setting his jaws to appear sterner than he probably was. Courfeyrac watched him from the corner of his eyes, thankful for the arm he could lean on while the adrenaline ebbed away from his organism and was replaced with a heavy tiredness.

“I think we can make an exception for you.”, said Enjolras dryly and shot him an encouraging look while he escorted him to Grantaire's quarter where the leader of the rebel forces himself helped Courfeyrac out of his boots and into bed.

 

:<∙>:

 

It was difficult to determine how long Courfeyrac had slept because it was always kind of gloomy in Grantaire's room – or any of the other caves built into the mountain for that matter. Courfeyrac sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes for a moment, tousling his hair afterwards, a nervous quirk he had developed as a child and could not really get rid of.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes again before swinging his legs out of bed. Enjolras had left his trousers on – thank god – Courfeyrac had not been eager to be seen by the whole of the rebel group only in breeches. Feeling a little stiff in his shoulders and still the memory of a headache nestling behind his right eye, he grabbed one of the fresh shirts Feuilly had lent him and slipped into it.

He grabbed the cane that had miraculously appeared in his room – no blood on it anymore – and made his way out of the room towards the central cave. Apparently it was late in the evening or already night because no one but Grantaire and Jehan were in the common room, lounging on two sofas, drinking wine and reading poetry. Between Grantaire's fingers, a cigarette glimmered red and Courfeyrac wondered where on earth Grantaire had gotten them from because any forms of stimulants had been banished from the realm – opium as well as nicotine and other such substances.

“Oh hey, Sleeping Beauty is awake!”, smiled Grantaire and sat up, waiving Courfeyrac over.

“How are you feeling?”, asked Jehan and poured another glass of wine for Courfeyrac, handing it to him over the low table.

“Tired. And my head feels like a dragon sat on it...”, he sighed and took a sip of wine, sighing in relish about the sweet taste of the burgundy liquid on his tongue.

“Well, heroes are allowed to have a headache.”, smiled Jehan and leaned back again, gathering the book up that was resting in his lap.

“Hero?”, asked Courfeyrac startled and put his glass down.

Grantaire laughed and flung his legs over Courfeyrac's lap to get more comfortable again. Then he toasted towards Courfeyrac and said: “Once Combeferre and Parthenope were better he told us what you did. That parachute could have killed them without you.”

“You said dragons are not dangerous. You said they do not attack without a reason. So how do you explain what that parachute did...”, grumbled Courfeyrac and took a deep drag from his wine.

Grantaire and Jehan exchanged a quick, concerned look, then Grantaire occupied himself with his cigarette and it was upon Jehan to answer his question: “Well... It was a grown citron parachute, by the looks of it. Chances are high that it never found its partner. And we already told you... dragons who don't find their partners turn somehow...”

“Mad!”, supplied Grantaire the word that Jehan could not get out, then he blew a swirl of bluish smoke out of his mouth, squeezing out the cigarette in an ashtray on the table, “They turn mad and unpredictable. Other than that we can also say that citron parachutes have a very strong sense of territory and will defend what they think is theirs against every dragon in it.”

“So did it ever attack you?”, asked Courfeyrac and watched Grantaire slosh the wine around in his glass, staring into the distance thoughtfully.

“No.”, answered Jehan and Courfeyrac looked over to him, “But we never had a baby-dragon with us.”

“What has one thing to do with the other?”, asked Courfeyrac and felt how his headache got stronger again.

“Well...”, said Grantaire and struggled up, emptying his glass before carrying on, “The baby posed a threat to the citron parachute because our dragons left it in piece ever since it came here. It stayed away from us, we stayed away from it. No problems at all. But a baby-dragon can still grow into a concurrent and so has to be eliminated.”

“Sad but true.”, sighed Jehan and gathered up his book again while Grantaire got to his feet, stretching with a yawn while his shirt rode up over his hips.

“All right, folks”, sighed Grantaire and strolled towards the entrance to the tunnel that led to the quarters, “I'm going to have a look if Enjolras has warmed the bed for me already or if he's needing a kick up the arse to get some sleep. I see you tomorrow.”

“Nice dreams, Grantaire.”, wished Jehan and waived half-heartedly while his nose was already buried in the book.

Before Grantaire disappeared in the tunnel, he turned around once more and called to Courfeyrac: “Ferre is with Parthenope by the way!”

Before Courfeyrac could reply anything, Grantaire left with a broad smile on his face and Courfeyrac huffed a little about the undertone in Grantaire's voice. Courfeyrac swirled the wine in his glass around and watched the reflexes on the surface.

“You can take your glass with you, if you wish.”, suggested Jehan without looking up.

“Why are all of you assuming that I want to see him?”, asked Courfeyrac a little bugged but took a sip of wine while Jehan chuckled amused.

“Some of us have eyes... others are good at reading between the lines.”, declared Jehan, licked his forefinger and turned a page, “Besides, Ferre is an attractive, intelligent and capturing young man, no one would judge you.”

“All right!”, said Courfeyrac a little too loud and was on his feet again, the wine forgotten on the table. He wasn't going to talk with a stranger – a _rebel_ stranger, to be precise – about his huge crush on a man he should rather hunt down and put into the dungeon than fall in love with. Leaving was the best option he had.

Jehan's chuckle followed him through the cave while he strolled towards the tunnel to the dragon cave and he wished bugged that he had slept an hour or so longer just to avoid Jehan and Grantaire. Wondering how many more of them knew or suspected him having a crush on Combeferre, Courfeyrac wandered through the tunnel into the dim light in the dragon cave.

Quiet snoring and small puffs of smoke filled the dome like cave and gave it a peaceful appearance. Lamia and Swoboda lay in a pile in one corner, Ophelia curled into a ball close by. Ruby and the albino ember breather – Romeo, Cosette had told him – had spread out in the other corner, puffing smoke from their nostrils with every snore.

In the middle of the room, Parthenope lay stretched out, one wing bandaged, her head resting on her front leg. She was breathing deeply, her eyes moving under the lids while the tip of her tail swayed slightly from right to left in sleep. At her head, wrapped up in a heavy woollen blanket, Combeferre sat cross legged on the floor, his hand placed on her snout, watching her through tired eyes.

Courfeyrac smiled to himself, then he made his way over to them. Combeferre got aware of him and was on his feet in an instant, the blanket falling from his shoulders. He was hurrying towards Courfeyrac and for a short moment, the First Hunter had the impression that Combeferre was going to hug him. Before he could though, he stilled and held out his hand for Courfeyrac to take. Courfeyrac hoped that Combeferre did not see the disappointment on his face.

“Courfeyrac, I...”, began Combeferre and grasped Courfeyrac's hand with both of his own, “I can not explain how _grateful_ I am for what you did.”

“Don't worry...”, tried Courfeyrac to ease Combeferre's stern expression and the tension in his features, “It's what everyone would have done.”

“No.”, contradicted Combeferre and his grasp on Courfeyrac's hand was turning nearly painful, “No, you don't understand. I should have been there for her. I should have... instead I... god, Courfeyrac, if you hadn't been there for her...”

“Combeferre, please, calm down.”, pleaded Courfeyrac and drew his hand away, carefully wrapping an arm around Combeferre's back to make him go back to his blanket and the pillow he had sat on, seeing how strained Combeferre's nerves still were.

“I can never make this up to you...”, mumbled Combeferre and let Courfeyrac guide him down on his seat again, watching as the First Hunter sat down next to him, shrugging his shoulders.

“You don't have to, really. I mean... if we had crashed, we would have all been dead, me included. Maybe I just saved my own hide?”, suggested Courfeyrac, striving for a more casual and happy tone.

Combeferre shot him a reprimanding look and let Courfeyrac drag the blanket back around his shoulders before he muttered: “You wouldn't do that.”

“You don't know me.”, said Courfeyrac happily and crossed his legs as well, ignoring the little sting in his calf, “I could have done just that.”

When he looked over to Combeferre, he found to his delight that that sweet little smile was back on Combeferre's face and that his eyes were sparkling a little amused. He put his hand back onto Parthenope's snout and carefully caressed her before he muttered: “I think I know you enough by now to know that you're lying without even turning red.”

“My speciality!”, grinned Courfeyrac and nudged Combeferre a little, watching happily how Combeferre shook his head to himself and kept watching Parthenope while Courfeyrac could take in every single detail of Combeferre's face in the scarce light of the orange night-lamps in the cave. How the light reflected in the glasses on his fine cut nose, how the skin stretched lightly over his high cheekbones whenever he smiled and how his dark eyes glinted whenever he looked at Parthenope. And how his lips parted over pearl white teeth whenever he smiled. Those thin lips that looked so soft and kissable.

“How...”, spluttered Courfeyrac to prevent his thoughts of going down this road any further. Combeferre turned to him again and raised a questioning eyebrow about Courfeyrac's monosyllabic question. Awkwardly Courfeyrac cleared his throat and settled for a simple question: “How is she doing? What did Grantaire say?”

Combeferre sighed and pushed his glasses up a little before he said: “The cuts looked worse than they were. The tissue of the wings is very well supplied with blood therefore injuries in those areas bleed more than others. But the cuts aren't very deep and started healing right away. Grantaire said that she will be up and about to fly far distances in about three days. Musichetta gave her a potion that will make her sleep deep tonight and support the healing. She's going to be fine.”

“That's good to hear.”, said Courfeyrac quietly and leaned forward to place a hand on the scales over Parthenope's closed eye, carefully moving his fingers over the scales as if to thank her for her effort in keeping him safe. Looking up, Courfeyrac got aware that Combeferre looked away fast, a blush creeping up his neck as if Courfeyrac had caught him doing something forbidden.

“You've gained a lot of sympathies through your deeds today.”, said Combeferre quietly and kept watching Parthenope while he talked, “Sympathies and gratitude. And not only mine. Enjolras was really impressed.”

“Does that mean I get to keep my head?”, joked Courfeyrac who had blushed a little embarrassed about Combeferre's praising words, “Because I like it a lot and would really want to keep it...”

“Why do you think Enjolras wanted your head?”, asked Combeferre and Courfeyrac saw how he struggled to appear shocked more than amused.

He grinned wide at Combeferre and explained: “If I remember correctly, there was a pamphlet floating around last month that described quite graphically what should happen to men who hunted down dragons and their owners. Beheading was one of the nicer things mentioned. And today he threatened to gut me with a blunt spoon if I tried to... do something to you.”

“Oh.”, huffed Combeferre and bit back a laugh before looking at Courfeyrac again, “Well, Enjolras gets carried away sometimes. He means no harm but needs a little guidance sometimes. In words and deeds...”

“And you are the guide most times?”, asked Courfeyrac, happy that they were getting a conversation going.

“Whenever he lets me.”, agreed Combeferre and hid a yawn in his shoulder, “But sometimes it gets increasingly more difficult to get through to him. He's desperate. Especially after days when we find dragons severed and violated.”

“I never knew...”, started Courfeyrac and rubbed his eyes for a moment, tousling his hair afterwards while Combeferre was watching him intently, “I never knew that some of the troops did those things. The orders are simply: elimination. Nothing else. They shouldn't torture... If I had known earlier...”

“It's not your fault what happened to the mother, Courfeyrac.”, said Combeferre quietly and reached over, his hand resting warm and reassuring on Courfeyrac's knee.

Courfeyrac huffed a laugh and looked down, taking his hand from Parthenope's scales to rub his neck to get rid of the awkward sense of guilt in his stomach. When it didn't go, he sighed and muttered: “But it feels like it is. I am the First Hunter. They are acting on _my_ orders. I ordered them to kill her and every other dragon they encounter. And a few days ago I would have never doubted that order. But now... Everything has changed.”

Combeferre seemed to search for words while Courfeyrac huffed a laugh again and found back to the humour that normally saved him from brooding too much: “Gosh, look at me. Sitting in the rebel base, patting the nose of a dragon and making friends with a bunch of people who would have done better in beheading me and leaving me to rot in the woods.”

“But then no one had saved Parthenope and me today.”, said Combeferre quietly and squeezed Courfeyrac's knee. He looked up and smiled thankful at Combeferre.

“You'll never let me have the last word, will you?”, he smiled at Combeferre.

“Never.”

Courfeyrac reached over and shoved him a little, seeing that he once again suppressed a small yawn, the blanket slipping a little from his shoulders. He tugged it back up and patted Combeferre's back carefully while latter pushed up his glasses again.

“I can look after her for a bit. You should go and get a little sleep. You will be of no use to her if you are asleep on your feet.”, offered Courfeyrac and slid a little closer as if to assure Combeferre that he would not leave Parthenope.

“Oh no, thanks.”, said Combeferre hastily but leaned slightly against Courfeyrac's shoulder which sent a blast of warmth through his body, “I want to be here when she wakes up again. But the offer is very tempting.”

“It's a little... chilly... in here, isn't it?”, asked Courfeyrac and shivered as a blast of cool air swooped through the cave from the hole in the ceiling.

“The nights in the mountains can get very cold.”, agreed Combeferre and seemed to hesitate. Then he leaned away again and tugged the blanket off his shoulders. Courfeyrac cursed in his head about how much more cliché this situation could get when Combeferre unfolded it and wrapped it around both of them, settling down closer next to Courfeyrac.

“Thanks...”, breathed Courfeyrac whose head started swimming when not only Combeferre's warmth but also his scent enveloped him with the blanket.

“No, thank you for keeping me company.”, said Combeferre quietly and nudged him a little, “You really don't have to do that.”

“It's my pleasure. And I've grown a little attached to this big, blue lump you call a dragon.”, winked Courfeyrac and patted Parthenope again who turned a little in her sleep.

“Of course you have, she's wonderful.”, smiled Combeferre and Courfeyrac wished once more he would smile that way when he was talking about him. But that would probably never happen. He got dragged out of his thoughts when Combeferre asked him to tell him about his life at the court of Marius' grandfather.

Courfeyrac dived into accounts of his days, about his childhood and his upbringing, about ridiculous new fashion choices and leisure time activities that the royals liked to engage in. He was just talking about the habit of some women to wear either white or red feathers on their hats depending on what time of the month it was for them in order to send a message to their secret lovers whenever they were unavailable when Combeferre's head sank against his shoulder.

Courfeyrac looked down and wished to scream when he saw that Combeferre had fallen asleep next to him, leaned into his side, his head resting on his shoulder, lips slightly opened, glasses sitting crooked on his nose. This was fantastic, Courfeyrac thought, why did he always end up in such situations with the people he liked too much for his own good. He should have emptied his wine and gone back to bed without looking after this maddeningly good looking and good-hearted rider.

But then again, if he would have gone to bed, he couldn't wrap his arm around him now, carefully plucking the glasses from his nose with the other and draw him tighter afterwards to cradle him a little more comfortable. He couldn't bury his nose into his hair and breath in, closing his eyes to relish the scent that made his head spin. He knew that he would curse himself for remaining with Combeferre in the morning, but right now, Courfeyrac wanted to leave him for nothing in this world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what dragon race could make Ferre go into raptures other than a moth-wing?! ;) Hadena irregularis is a real moth-species and was my influence for describing the patterns of the baby dragon. You can look those moths up [here](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hadena_irregularis).


	3. Chapter 3

“Ah, there you are! I was looking for you...”, grinned Marius and came into Grantaire's room where Courfeyrac sat on the floor, cross legged, playing with the moth-wing-baby whose tiny claws were closed around his forefingers and she screeched delighted each time Courfeyrac raised her into the air.

He had woken up in the morning when Musichetta had carefully shook him awake. Combeferre had vanished and had left nothing behind but his blanket and Parthenope who had looked intently at the sleepy First Hunter. Her eyes had changed, Courfeyrac had noted surprised. The suspicion and the warning had vanished and instead he saw gratitude and fondness in them. He had scratched her nose for a moment, then Grantaire had told him that Combeferre had had to attend an early consultation with Enjolras and Feuilly and had not wanted to wake him.

Courfeyrac had felt sick about not finding him with him and had somehow felt betrayed. He had strolled into the main cave where Enjolras, Feuilly and Combeferre had been bent over a map and a few books. The smile that Combeferre had bestowed on him when he had passed the table had extinguished that sickness in an instant and Courfeyrac walked around with a matching smile of his own for the rest of the morning.

Later, Enjolras, Feuilly, Bahorel and Combeferre had gone on the morning patrol, Combeferre accompanying Feuilly on Swoboda's back while Courfeyrac had spent a little more time with Parthenope. Bousset had appeared in the hall accompanied by Joly, both looking worn out and stressed while the moth-wing-baby had been crawling all over Joly who had struggled to hold her. Courfeyrac had volunteered to take her for a few hours so that the duo could relax a little. Both had been eager and happy to give her into Courfeyrac's custody.

And now Marius had come to look for him and the baby, flopping onto his bed while Prokno was swooping through the air around Marius' head, seemingly as besotted with him as Éponine herself was. Courfeyrac placed the moth-wing-baby down carefully and tried getting his fingers out of her grasp – failing miserably. He sighed and just went with it, looking up at Marius.

“What can I do for you, Your Highness?”

Marius stuck his tongue out on him and leaned back against the stone of the cave wall, sighing deeply before he crossed his arms behind his head, staring dreamily into the air in front of him. Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow and could not bite back the smile that developed on his face before Marius sighed: “Éponine and Cosette asked Enjolras if I could accompany them to a small town close by... to show me the real conditions in the realm.”

“That's... nice, I guess?!”, half asked Courfeyrac and turned his attention back to the moth-wing-baby that started nibbling at his left forefinger which was not really pleasant considering the tiny, razor-like teeth she already had.

“It is... Cosette is very clever and thoughtful and wants o show me how the people really live in my realm. She says it should be important for me to know how things really are, not how my advisers state they are. And she wants me to come with her. She even fought Enjolras about it...”, recounted Marius and a small smile stole itself on his features.

“Well, they are surely two very headstrong people.”, said Courfeyrac and winced a little when the baby kept on nibbling at his fingers although he tried to feed her some of the meet scraps in the bag next to him. His fingers seemed to be more delicious than bloody, fresh meat.

“She is headstrong, yes.”, sighed Marius and cocked his head a little, “And very beautiful. And intelligent. And independent and strong and caring and understanding... She's practically perfect.”

“Geez!”

Courfeyrac and Marius looked up, finding Grantaire and Joly coming into the room, both carrying their leather satchels and grinning at Marius. Before any of them could ask Grantaire what he had meant by that, he continued: “I think I've never heard anyone _ooh_ and _aah_ like that since Joly and Bousset met Musichetta!”

“Hey!”, protested Joly and smacked Grantaire playfully with his walking cane on the arse. Syrah sat down by the door and flicked her tongue threatening at Joly who just winked at her. Chimera landed on Courfeyrac's head and nuzzled her snout into his curls, humming a greeting while Phoenix started chasing Prokno through the room in wide circles just under the ceiling.

“Could it be you're in love, Your Highness?”, asked Courfeyrac and wiggled his eyebrows at Marius who blushed an endearing shade of red, his freckles nearly turning pale under the heavy blush.

“I'm... I'm... ehm...”, stuttered Marius while Grantaire sat down next to him, nudging him friendly.

“I won't tell Enjolras about it, if that keeps you from confiding in us...”, he joked and Marius pulled a face at him.

“I am not afraid of Enjolras.”, gave Marius back and puffed himself up a little, only to deflate when Grantaire raised an eyebrow at him, Joly bit back a laughter and masked it as a cough and Courfeyrac muttered: “As if!”

“All right...”, murmured Marius and raised both hands in a defensive gesture, “I might... with a small possibility... be a little unsure about what Enjolras could think if I really liked Cosette... a lot...”

“He'd cut your inners out with a blunt spoon and feed your heart to Ruby.”, said Grantaire deadpan and watched amused how Marius turned white as a sheet.

“Hey, I thought he would do that to me! I thought that was his special way of saying he likes me!”, protested Courfeyrac and pretended to burst into tears. Grantaire just laughed while Joly shook his head, plucking the moth-wing-baby from Courfeyrac's lap and handing her to Grantaire.

“No no, his special way of showing you that he likes you is usually telling you that you are good for nothing, believe in nothing and that your sole purpose on this earth is to be sceptic, sarcastic and to annoy the shit out of him.”, said Grantaire, grinning like the Cheshire Cat while Syrah watched him critically as he tried to examine the baby.

Joly and Courfeyrac laughed while he helped the First Hunter to his feet, Marius silent – obviously happy to be out of the focus again. Courfeyrac sat down on the stool in the corner while Joly asked him to take off his shirt because he wanted to look after the cuts the baby had inflicted on him the day before.

“You know, if I didn't know any better”, laughed Courfeyrac while Joly bent down to carefully look at the small injuries, “I would think you just come to examine me because you want to see my perfect Adonis-body naked more often...”

“I've seen better...”, muttered Joly while his tongue poked out at the left side of his mouth, his brows furrowed in concentration. The betrayed look on Courfeyrac's face made Grantaire laugh whole-heartedly while he had placed the baby in a small towel. He hooked the edges in a scale and got up to lift the baby off the bed.

“Oh wow.”, he smiled and put the baby down, “She gained about a pound since yesterday. That's remarkable and a great start.”

“That's no wonder.”, sniggered Joly and handed Courfeyrac his shirt back, “She's been doing nothing but eating and sleeping since she arrived here yesterday. I would be as round as a ball in a bit over half a week if I kept eating a matching amount for my body weight.”

“But it's really great.”, said Grantaire and tried to measure the baby from snout to tail which did not really work because she kept wiggling around, crawling towards where Courfeyrac buttoned down his shirt again, “Bahorel said we might have a bit of meat with the fire-protein tonight so she could already breath fire which would be good for her lungs etcetera. If she's also growing properly... which... I can't... holy fuck, baby... I can't determine because... bloody hell, Marius, could you just... Too late!”

The moth-wing-baby had hopped down the bed and half flew, half jumped towards Courfeyrac and tried to climb up his leg before he stooped down and picked her up, scratching her snout carefully. Grantaire had raised an eyebrow at this and Joly was grinning like a madman, laughing out loud when she even puffed a little cloud of smoke towards Courfeyrac.

“You could have said earlier that she keeps still with you, you jerk!”, complained Grantaire and got up with the measurement tape while Marius held an arm out for Chimera who had abandoned Courfeyrac after he payed no attention to her.

“Careful, rebel, or I'm going to drop her onto the bed and you can start afresh.”, threatened Courfeyrac grinning while he helped Grantaire measure down from her snout to the tip of her slender tail, the small dragon humming contently in his arms.

“I hope Bahorel has the rabbits skinned tonight, it will be so exciting!”, giggled Joly, closed his satchel and took up his cane to leave, Phoenix and Chimera following the whistle he gave while limping out.

“What did he mean?”, asked Courfeyrac Grantaire who got packed up as well. The young man just shrugged his shoulders and grinned wickedly, saying: “You'll see. Lunch is ready, by the way. Come on you two.”

Together they left the chamber and Courfeyrac nearly forgot his cane if Marius had not handed it to him before they left. Joly would surely have been scolding him about walking around without it and Courfeyrac wanted to skip that part. When they came into the main cave, the kitchen and the table area were already filled with people, talking, handing around crockery, teasing, laughing, planning.

Enjolras looked up when he heard Grantaire laugh about a remark from Courfeyrac about them looking like a bee hive and a nearly non-existent smile appeared on his face that made Grantaire's eyes sparkle happily. He abandoned Courfeyrac and Marius and hurried to his seat where Enjolras greeted him with a small nod that seemed to mean the world to Grantaire. Courfeyrac huffed a little about how cold Enjolras appeared when a movement caught his eye.

Combeferre was smiling lightly at him, his hand raised in a half-waive while he tried to get his attention. Courfeyrac looked up and returned the smile, something warm nestling in his stomach when Combeferre seemed to smile even brighter when he saw Courfeyrac react to him. He was beckoning Courfeyrac over to where he had saved two seats at the end of the table and Courfeyrac was aware how nearly everyone was watching him while he approached Combeferre.

“I am sorry I had to leave this morning.”, greeted Combeferre and pulled the chair out for Courfeyrac – he really pulled out the bloody chair for him, as if he was a maiden in danger. Courfeyrac blushed a little and took a hold of the backrest, dragging the chair even further out himself while Combeferre was still smiling when he said: “I hope you didn't feel like I abandoned you after you were such a formidable pillow last night.”

Courfeyrac heard how Joly bit back one of his laughs again and how Jehan sighed dreamily but he decided to ignore all of it and turned to Combeferre who sat down next to him: “Well, I am usually not left alone after I spent the night with someone, but I guess there should always be a first time, shouldn't there?”

Combeferre laughed nervous and handed Courfeyrac a plate that Joly had piled up with pasta with meatballs and tomato sauce. He thanked him and sniffed the smell of the food with a relishing sigh. He turned to Musichetta who spooned out some sauce for Bousset and asked: “Where the hell do you get that food from, Chetta? It smells amazing.”

“We have our contacts.”, smiled the short woman and winked while Combeferre placed his plate in front of him and started twirling the spaghetti up with a fork.

“Mysterious...”, grinned Courfeyrac but got back to eating while the moth-wing-baby slowly slid from his shoulder into his lap, her snout poking over the edge of the table while she sniffed noisily.

Bahorel, who sat across from Courfeyrac, chuckled and pointed with his fork to the baby while he lectured: “If you're not careful, she'll have the meatballs off of your plate before you can say Black Badger Catcher Batted My Best Bat Away.”

“What?”, laughed Courfeyrac and looked up at Bahorel who was grinning wide at him.

“A tongue twister Grantaire and Joly came up with when they had been particularly drunk.”, explained Feuilly sitting next to Bahorel.

“I think it is a pretty lovely example how alliterations and assonances can work together and make people memorise even the biggest humbug ever uttered on this earth.”, remarked Jehan to Combeferre's right and nodded meaningful to Bahorel who gave him the finger as a reply.

“Too late...”, sighed Feuilly and shook his head sadly.

“What for?”, asked Jehan and leaned back a little, “I think they did a pretty good job about this tongue twister. It has an open sound to it through all the a-s used and also contains a grain of truth considering...”

“Not the tongue twister, you poetic fool!”, laughed Bahorel and pointed at Courfeyrac's plate, “Too late for the meatballs, they're gone!”

“What!”, exclaimed Courfeyrac and looked down, finding the baby-dragon chewing with full cheeks while his plate only contained spaghetti and tomato sauce without any traces of meat, “Oh, you _got_ to be kiddin' me!”

Bahorel and Feuilly roared from laughter and Jehan giggled amused while he twirled some more spaghetti around his fork to shovel them into his mouth. Some of the others further up the table were raising their heads to see what was going on but could not determine the cause of the merriment further down the table.

“You are a monster!”, chided Courfeyrac the baby-dragon fondly while he wiped her snout clean of the sauce and traces of meat with his shirt, “That's why we don't trust you. You steal and you are mean. We definitely need to work on your manners, Mademoiselle! Damn it... I wanted to have some meatballs too!”

“Here...”, said Combeferre and lifted his plate and fork as if to shovel some of his meatballs on his plate. Courfeyrac panicked a little because after them finding him and Combeferre cuddled together under one blanket Courfeyrac did not want them to see Combeferre share his food with him. This was just a touch too much, even for his liking, while he still wasn't sure what he and Combeferre were doing.

“Gosh, no, Combeferre. Keep them, I was just kidding.”, he hurried to fend the meatballs off and saw how disappointed Combeferre seemed. He gulped and smiled at him while he tried to soften the harsh edge that had been in his words: “You eat them yourself. You need to get big and strong if you want to handle citron parachutes on your own next time.”

“I hope there will be no next time!”, said Combeferre quietly and Bahorel hummed in agreement.

“Did you see it again on your morning patrol?”, asked Courfeyrac, a nervous feeling in his stomach about the parachute.

He received the answer from the head of the table where Enjolras had pricked his ears as he had heard the words _citron_ and _parachute_. He folded his fingers together and propped his chin onto them, his brows furrowed carefully while he explained: “No, we have seen no trace of it. We searched into the direction from which it had come and we followed the stream and checked where you and Combeferre had been attacked. There is no sign of it. Maybe it fled after you wounded it.”

“Ah...”, made Courfeyrac and tried to hold the moth-wing-baby still on his lap while she tried to get to Combeferre's meatballs.

“We found blood though.”, declared Enjolras then and nodded slowly, “We are sure it isn't Parthenope's because it was spread over a small ledge not far from where you defended yourselves from it. You struck it pretty hard.”

“Thanks... I guess.”, Courfeyrac muttered while the memory of the screech and the blood on yellow feathers made a muscle in Courfeyrac's brow twitch painfully.

“While we were out looking for the parachute”, Enjolras continued, “We also found the traces of a large hunting party coming from the north. We will head out later again to see what they are up to. Maybe they stirred the dragon and that was why it was so hostile. And if not...”

“We will show those bastards that they cannot simply ride through our woods and hunt dragons like they are flies.”, ended Bahorel Enjolras' sentence and earned a reserved nod from the blond leader.

“Will you go with them?”, Courfeyrac asked and turned to Combeferre who was scratching the moth-wing-baby behind the tiny, stubby horns, his fingers also brushing Courfeyrac's lower arm every so often because it was still looped around the baby. Courfeyrac had a hard time concentrating while he felt the heat through the thin linen fabric.

“No.”, said Enjolras and made both Courfeyrac and Combeferre look up. The blond leaned forward and explained – more to Combeferre as to anyone else, it seemed: “We need to travel light and fast. Swoboda can't be burdened with extra weight. After we drop Bousset and Grantaire off, we will be heading north to look for them.”

“Don't forget us!”, cut Musichetta in and Enjolras furrowed his eyebrows annoyed.

“All right, after we've brought Musichetta and Joly to their oh-so important herb-plantation and dropped off Bousset and Grantaire we will head north.”, he grumbled and shot a threatening glare at Musichetta who seemed not willing to take any of that.

“Listen”, she snapped and pointed with her fork towards the blond man, Courfeyrac recognizing how Joly leaned away from her and Grantaire leaned back as well as if to be out of the line of fire, “It is not _our_ fault that our dragons are too small to carry us. You said it was fine to make that plantation further up north because there no guards would find it and suspect that rebels could be close. You _agreed_ to take us there _whenever_ we wanted. So don't give me that shitty tone and that small eye-roll which you think I didn't see!”

Courfeyrac saw how Enjolras' cheeks and ears were flaming red while he glared infuriated at Musichetta who glared back. The table was silent and everyone seemed to wait for the bomb to drop. Courfeyrac was betting that Enjolras would unleash the powers of hell now to show Musichetta her place, but quite the contrary happened. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and held the air a little before breathing out slowly.

“I am sorry.”, he said quietly and very pressed and some around the table cursed, Bahorel handing a few coins to Feuilly under the table while Grantaire growled and tossed a cigarette towards Jehan who thanked him with a smile.

“She's the only one putting up with Enjolras from time to time.”, explained Combeferre in a whisper and winked at Courfeyrac, “She's also the only one who has ever been able to make him apologize in front of everyone...”

“Impressive.”, agreed Courfeyrac and looked to Musichetta who was chatting happily with Éponine now.

“You don't want to get into her bad books, let me tell you.”, grinned Bahorel.

“Speaking out of experience?”, asked Courfeyrac and winked while Bahorel shook his head laughing.

“Anyway...”, said Enjolras loud and ended the conversations again, “What I wanted to say is, Cosette will be in charge while I'm gone, understand?”

This question was directed at Courfeyrac and he was already about to reply what this rule entailed when Cosette cleared her throat and said: “You forget, brother, that Éponine, myself and Marius will go to the village to visit Arnaud and see how he's doing. Jehan volunteered to take Marius there.”

“Cosette...”, growled Enjolras but Cosette just shot him a long, warning glance and Enjolras closed his eyes again until Grantaire carefully took his hand, looking encouraging at him. Enjolras took another deep breath, then he muttered: “We can not all leave the cave while the First Hunter is still locked up here.”

“We won't all be gone.”, said Combeferre and leaned forward to see Enjolras better, “I will still be here.”

“And I am no threat at all”, agreed Courfeyrac, winking at Enjolras while he teased: “I still have a healthy respect for letter openers or blunt spoons...”

Enjolras' ears reddened again but this time not from anger but rather from shame as he remembered the threat he had posed to Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac was smiling wide at him as if to show that there were no hard feelings between them and Enjolras cleared his throat a little indignant.

“All right. Fine. If you agree with that, Ferre, we'll leave you with the First Hunter.”, stated Enjolras and Combeferre nodded encouraging. Enjolras gave a short nod and thumped both hands onto the table like a commando and said: “Then let's go.”

Everyone got up around them and gathered up their crockery while Courfeyrac watched Musichetta fondly take the plate and the fork from Bousset who just huffed a little and got a rewarding kiss from Joly. When he saw the two men kissing, Courfeyrac recognized with a pang of shock that he and Combeferre would be left alone in no time. Although he yearned to get to know the other man better, he somehow dreaded to make a fool of himself once again. But he had already assured Enjolras that he was fine with being left with Combeferre so there was no turning back.

The boys flocked together and left the cave along with Cosette and Éponine, framing Marius who had only eyes for Cosette while Éponine seemed desperate to get his attention as well. Courfeyrac huffed. There was potential trouble on the way.

“Hey”, said Joly softly behind him. He and Grantaire had come over to where Combeferre and Courfeyrac still sat and brazed themselves against the table top.

“If you want”, declared Grantaire and turned to Combeferre, “you can change the dressing on Parthenope's wing. And if you have the time and she feels up for it, get out of the cave and closer to some water. It should be good for the healing process if she's closer to some water.”

“I will see if she feels like it.”, said Combeferre and offered a grateful smile for Grantaire.

“And you!”, said Joly and pointed accusingly at Courfeyrac, “No more injured legs, pierced chests or close to breakdown-Combeferre-s!”

“And how come this was all my fault?”, snapped Courfeyrac back but Joly just threw his head into his neck and laughed while Chimera and Phoenix came back from the big cave to perch on Syrah's horns.

“You're the enemy.”, clipped Grantaire in an attempt to sound hostile, “Everything is your fault.”

“You should get going or Enjolras will drag you out.”, acknowledged Combeferre and started cleaning up his crockery.

While he wandered over to the kitchen area, Grantaire leaned closer to Courfeyrac and mumbled: “He likes old books, insects and the thought that there are supernatural beings in this world. Ask him about any of it, that'll win him over...”

“Wha...?”, stuttered Courfeyrac, blushing deeply while Grantaire straightened, both Joly and he a knowing sparkle in their eyes while they left, Joly giggling frantically while Grantaire smacked the back of his head lightly.

Red-eared and hot-faced, Courfeyrac emptied his glass and got up as well, forgetting the cane again while he cleaned away his crockery. The moth-wing-baby half jumped, half flew next to him while he made his way over to the kitchen. Combeferre was waiting for him there, rinsing Courfeyrac's plate as soon as he had put it down, picking up the baby after finishing that.

“I need to go back to my room and get my bag before we go check on Parthenope. You want to come or do you want to wait here?”, he asked and looked up, pushing his glasses up while scanning Courfeyrac's features surprised about the blush he saw.

“I think I'll go and see if Parthenope is all right... if you don't mind.”, murmured Courfeyrac and tousled his hair, not really able to look at Combeferre.

“Not at all, I meet you there then.”, smiled Combeferre and took off towards the tunnel to the quarters, his steps light and full of that determined little swing that Courfeyrac had detected the first time he had seen Combeferre. He gulped high in his throat and rubbed his face then.

Was he being that obvious? How come Grantaire knew how much he crushed on Combeferre after just a few days? Normally he was not that transparent concerning his emotions. Or maybe he had only been around superficial people who did not care or made sure not to care.

Courfeyrac sighed again, then intended to take off towards the dragon cave when Musichetta sprinted back into the room, her eyes catching on his face before she broke out into a huge grin. Determined, she strolled towards him, an already half full messenger-bag in her hands.

“There you are.”, she smiled and shoved the bag into his hands, still grinning wickedly, “I've packed some things for you.”

“For me?”, asked Courfeyrac and glanced into the bag.

“For you _and_ Combeferre.”, smiled Musichetta and winked.

Courfeyrac looked into the bag again. A whole lot of apples, a jar of ointment and what looked like a limp waterskin piled up in there while Musichetta drew out the waterskin and fished a bottle of wine out from under the sink.

“That's Grantaire's stock, I'm not sure you're allowed to be in there.”, mused Courfeyrac and watched how Musichetta checked the etiquette of one bottle and nodded to herself.

“I have the direct order _from_ R to go into his stock and supply you with a bit of... how were his exact words? Ah, yes”, Musichetta poured wine into the waterskin and winked at Courfeyrac, “Social lubricant.”

Courfeyrac opened his mouth to ask what he would need social lubricant for when he caught on and scowled again. Musichetta put the cork back into the bottle and closed the waterskin as well, tossing it at Courfeyrac before grabbing his elbow and guiding him towards the dragon cave.

“I've given you some merlot. Ferre is a sucker for that dry type of wine, R told me. And if you want to win Parthenope's heart, you'll have to feed her apples. She'll love you forever after you did.”, declared Musichetta while she guided Courfeyrac into the cave, “And the key to get along with her is to stare her straight in the eye when she's looking at you. She has no place in her heart for fearsome men who back down from a stare contest. Got it?”

“I really don't like being set up or people interfering in my personal life.”, grumbled Courfeyrac and regretted that he had tried to set up Marius so often, it was an awful feeling, “I'm old enough to handle this... thing myself.”

Musichetta laughed and her laughter echoed off the cave walls as Ophelia and Jehan raised their heads while they were still waiting for Musichetta to return. Bahorel and Joly already sat on Lamia's back while Jehan grinned upon seeing Musichetta lecturing Courfeyrac.

“And we really do not doubt that.”, she said in that moment and winked, “But we would really like to help you. Ferre deserves a good man. He's been alone for too long.”

“Wasn't I the enemy just a few moments earlier?”, grumbled Courfeyrac and got a pinch in the side from Musichetta, “Ow!”

“Shut up and try your best, that's what we ask for.”, grinned Joly who seemingly knew what they were talking about.

“No pressure then.”, grumbled Courfeyrac and tousled his hair again while Musichetta let Ophelia help her onto her back.

“I have something for you.”, said Jehan quietly and Courfeyrac turned around to the pale young man. He was turning a flying-mask in his hands, made from nearly white leather. He had used some shed dragon scales from Lamia's chest to ornament the forehead-area and the cheeks and the mask looked splendid in the light of the early afternoon.

“Wow, Jehan, that's gorgeous.”, praised Courfeyrac and took the mask that Jehan offered to him, “Is that for me?”

“Yes.”, smiled the young man happy about Courfeyrac's enthusiasm, “I thought after you lost Combeferre's spare mask in the endeavour to defend him and Parthenope, you would need your own. And I think those orange scales really suit your skin tone.”

“Bla bla bla!”, laughed Bahorel and gathered up the reigns, “Come on, Jehan, we need to get going or Enjolras will split us from crotch to chin and I'm not looking forward to that.”

“Thank you, Jehan.”, hurried Courfeyrac to express his gratitude and patted the small of Jehan's back, making the young man smile fondly at him, “I love the mask.”

“Come on!”, demanded Bahorel with a proud grin at Jehan while the lithe man scrambled up Ophelia's back. Then they took off and the wind from their wide wings made Courfeyrac back two steps back and shield his face with his hand.

When he saw clear again, he got aware of Parthenope lying on a bed of straw, her face turned towards him, eyes scanning him interested. He gulped and remembered Musichetta's remark about not looking away and stared back. He slowly approached the azure blue dragon and extended a hand. Parthenope sniffed but did not move, watching him intently while he did not look away like he had done so often. His hand came to rest on Parthenope's brow, scratching carefully. The dragon made that humming-purring-grumbling sound all dragons seemed to inherit but in such a deep pitch that is seemed to vibrate in Courfeyrac's bones.

“You like that, huh?”, he asked quietly and kept scratching while Parthenope closed her eyes and pushed her big head further up into the touch, nearly knocking Courfeyrac over in the process. He smiled and kept patting the large dragon while he produced an apple from the bag. Parthenope sniffed and looked up, her eyes fixing the apple before Courfeyrac fed it to her. She chewed happily and pushed her hand again into his palm, the humming-purring-grumbling sound vibrating through his body until he heard footsteps behind him in the tunnel.

Combeferre came and was clad in his usual patrol outfit again, even wearing the cuirass that shaped his chest in the most perfect way Courfeyrac had ever seen. He cast down his eyes while the tall man approached him with a smile, shaking his head about the scene in front of him. The moth-wing-baby was curled around his neck, blinking lazily while bobbing up and down in unison with Combeferre's steps.

“Look who's won a new friend.”, grinned Combeferre and patted Parthenope's nose while she got up and stretched like a lazy cat.

“Are you talking about the dragon or me?”, asked Courfeyrac and winked jokingly although he was really not sure.

“Talking about Madame here. You need to be careful, there is only a small nuance between friendship and slavery when it comes to her.”, declared Combeferre and was nudged by Parthenope who made an indignant sound in the back of her throat. Combeferre laughed and placed his arm across Parthenope's forehead, kissing the rough scales over her nostril before smiling: “Sorry, girl. Didn't mean it.”

“So where are we going now?”, asked Courfeyrac, feeling the searing cut of jealousy in his guts again while Combeferre was so fond around Parthenope.

The rider turned his attention back to Courfeyrac and let go off Parthenope, declaring: “We take off the dressing and then I'll show you the emergency tunnel we have built into the mountain to escape in case of any immediate danger.”

“Sounds thrilling. Not what I'd recommend for a first date, but...”, babbled Courfeyrac smiling, only recognizing too late what he had said. He saw Combeferre smirk to himself and shirk from Courfeyrac's gaze, a blush creeping up his neck and colouring his ears red.

“We're out of candles and with all the others constantly around I thought this was a better idea than a candle light dinner.”, retorted Combeferre ironic and turned away before Courfeyrac could see the full amount of the gorgeous smile that seemed to make Combeferre shine from within. A warm feeling pooled in his stomach and chest and he felt how he himself smirked wide, unable to take his eyes from Combeferre's back while he hunkered down and coaxed Parthenope to spread out her wing with the dressing.

The moth-wing-baby stretched yawning and scrambled down Combeferre's back and shuffled towards Courfeyrac who picked her up after stuffing his mask into the messenger-bag Musichetta had given him.

Combeferre had meanwhile taken the dressing off the wing and ran his slender fingers carefully along the edges of the long scratched that looked better than the day before. Courfeyrac raised on tiptoes to see over Combeferre shoulder and asked: “So?”

“Looks so much better.”, murmured Combeferre and Courfeyrac heard the relieve vibrate in his deep voice, “R was right, they were only on the surface and healed fast.”

“I thought it would take longer to heal.”, mused Courfeyrac and helped the moth-wing-baby loop around his neck like she had done with Combeferre, “There was so much blood.”

“As I said”, sighed Combeferre and got up, brushing dust from his palms and looking back to Courfeyrac, “The tissue at the wings is very well supplied with blood and therefore bleeds strongly at the smallest injury. But it also heals very fast. That's because a dragon with a wounded wing is easy prey for anyone so nature supplied them with fast healing wing-tissue in case they got injured.”

“That nature is a smart girl, you should introduce me to her sometime.”, grinned Courfeyrac and saw the small doubt in Combeferre's eyes immediately before he could fight it down. Courfeyrac gulped about his own stupidity and stuttered: “Not... that I'm particularly interested in girls! Let alone ones with a green thumb. I just... thought... you know. Plants and herbs and... and insects are pretty cool, aren't they?”

Courfeyrac mentally facepalmed himself about his stuttering and cursed himself for being so clumsy whenever Combeferre was around him. But the fond smile that Combeferre bestowed on him before he bent down to gather up the used dressing was worth the bullshit he had just produced. And he was pretty sure that Combeferre had seen right through his babbling although he pretended not to.

“They are, yes.”, said Combeferre softly and went towards a bin in the corner to get rid of the dressings, “But I didn't think you were interested in such things.”

“What did you think I was interested in then?”, asked Courfeyrac, settling for the tactic to keep Combeferre talking before he was going to make a fool out of himself – well, more than he already had, that was.

Combeferre shot him a quick, assessing look and shrugged his shoulders while he came back towards him and Parthenope again.

“I don't know.”, he confessed and the blush crept back up his neck slowly, “You're... you're hard to judge. You talk a lot but don't really say anything, you know what I mean?”

“Are you saying I'm a chatterbox?”, asked Courfeyrac and pressed his hands to his chest where his heart beat steadily against his ribs, feigning hurt.

“No.”, Combeferre chuckled, “I'm just saying you talk a lot without really giving anything away. I feel like you need a very long time to trust someone and then to really open up to them.”

Courfeyrac was dumbstruck about the turn their conversation had taken and about how fast Combeferre had seen through him completely. Because he was right, it was hard for Courfeyrac to trust people – hell, he still did not really trust any of those people who had been his enemy first and who struggled now to be his friends – and it was even harder for him to open up to someone completely. He always feared to burden them with his crap. He wanted to help people, to make them feel better and to support them. There was no way that he was going to burden people with his own things.

“I'm sorry.”, said Combeferre after the silence that had followed his words, “It was rude of me to say those things. It's just... I feel like I know you although I don't know anything about you, you know?!”

“That makes no sense.”, grinned Courfeyrac and watched Combeferre shoulder his backpack, nudging Parthenope to get up.

“I think it makes perfectly sense.”, gave Combeferre back and started walking towards the end of the cave opposite from the entrance tunnel, turning around and walking backwards as Courfeyrac hesitated, “Are you coming or do you want to stay here?”

Courfeyrac sighed and caught up with him jogging while Parthenope followed Combeferre to the other side of the cave. Hidden in a crack in the stone, there was a lever that Combeferre pulled with a lot of effort, his shoulders tensing and the muscles in his upper arms working in a most appealing way so that Courfeyrac tousled his hair again, unable to tear his eyes from the view he got.

Creaking, a mechanism in the wall pulled up a rusty iron portcullis that had barred the entrance to another tunnel. While Combeferre brushed dust and rust from his fingers, Parthenope nudged Courfeyrac from behind and he stumbled forward a step into the dense darkness of the tunnel that was momentarily broken by the flicker of a torch that Combeferre had brought. The wedge-shaped blast of light painted the walls yellow and made Parthenope's eyes reflect the light when Courfeyrac looked over his shoulder. Even the small eyes of the moth-wing-baby glinted up at him and made him shiver.

Combeferre led the way, silently, while Courfeyrac followed him stumbling. The path lead deeper down into the stone of the mountain and after a few moments, the air had grown colder than in the living caves of the rebels. Courfeyrac crossed his arms awkwardly and asked: “And where does this tunnel lead to?”

Combeferre looked over his shoulder and his features appeared more edgy in the light of the torch than they normally were when he answered: “Out of the mountain and to a close mountain lake. There is a dense wood at one shore, perfect for shading us from any view.”

“I see.”, said Courfeyrac and felt Parthenope nudge him again, unsure what the dragon wanted of him. Combeferre went silent again and Courfeyrac was struggling to find something to talk about as well. His words about knowing Courfeyrac yet not really knowing who he was had made him think. He liked Combeferre and could really imagine that he was a person worth learning everything about him – he actually quite wished that Combeferre was the person he could finally share everything with.

“Here.”, said Combeferre and drew Courfeyrac from his thoughts. They had reached a massive looking stone wall in front of them and Combeferre handed the torch to Courfeyrac before fiddling in a little recess in the stone to his left. After a moment, something clicked, something rattled, then the stone seemed to dip away from them and Courfeyrac saw that it was not really stone but roughly hewn wood, painted in many shades of grey and brown to resemble the stone.

“Wow.”, he breathed before he could stop himself and Combeferre turned around to smile at him.

“R is really good with a brush and some colours. Bahorel really thought we had used stone pillars for this drawbridge when he saw it for the first time.”, explained Combeferre and took the torch from Courfeyrac again, turning it off with a soft clicking sound. Then he motioned with one arm out into the light and Courfeyrac nodded, stepping forward.

It was not really as breathtaking as Courfeyrac had imagined after Combeferre had told him about their emergency exit. He found himself in a cave just wide enough that Parthenope and Ophelia as the largest dragons could get through. He trudged over the soggy ground – he did not really want to see what was causing the squishy sounds his boots made – and approached the mouth of the cave.

He stepped out of the cave at the foot of the mountain without the top, finding himself in a little wood that was littered with old, lithe trees and wide spanning ferns. Rotten foliage and dead ferns made the air smell of autumn and somewhere to his left, Courfeyrac heard the gurgling of a little brook. Before he could leave the cave though, Parthenope nudged him out of the way and tumbled towards the sound of the water.

“Parthenope!”, called Combeferre reprimanding and helped Courfeyrac straighten up again after he had sunken against the stone to his left, pushed over, struggling for balance.

“Geez, you could have warned me.”, grinned Courfeyrac and shook his head a little while the moth-wing-baby chirped indignant from nearly being thrown off Courfeyrac's shoulders.

“Sorry, normally she isn't that reckless.”, sighed Combeferre but motioned for Courfeyrac to follow him follow Parthenope.

They reached the shore of the clear, light blue mountain lake fairly soon and Courfeyrac was greeted by a sight he could have never imagined. Parthenope was standing in the lake, taking a bath with wide spread wings, diving with her head in from time to time, spraying water all over her body and throwing whole waves of crystal clear liquid all over her back with her mighty wings. She was making content and happy little noises while she kept bathing.

“Close your mouth or you might catch some flies.”, smiled Combeferre and helped the moth-wing-baby to climb from Courfeyrac's shoulders onto his arm before he sat down into the soft grass of the coastline.

Courfeyrac closed his mouth and sat down as well, still watching Parthenope while he put the bag down beside him. He shook his head and huffed a surprised little laugh through his nose that made Combeferre look back at him.

“Seriously, if someone had told me two weeks ago that there are dragons who like to bathe, I would have probably eaten my trousers.”, he chuckled and shook his head.

“I think if someone had told you two weeks ago that you would spent your afternoon with a rebel with a huge reward on his head, watching his dragon bathe, you would have eaten your entire wardrobe!”, gave Combeferre back and leaned back on his hands while he spread out his legs in front of him.

Courfeyrac laughed and nudged him a little, Combeferre smiling to himself while the moth-wing-baby kept crawling around in his lap to find a more comfortable position to take a nap. Both men were watching her fondly, then Courfeyrac sighed and stated: “We should really name her, it is bothersome to refer to her just as 'the baby', don't you think?”

Combeferre wrinkled his brows and cocked his head while Parthenope delivered a fish she had just caught into her mouth, chewing noisily while already hunting for the next.

“The partner of a dragon usually names them.”, Combeferre said carefully and cast a sidelong glance at Courfeyrac which he couldn't read entirely, “But maybe we'll see tonight.”

“Joly thinks that I'm her partner, doesn't he?”, asked Courfeyrac and started ripping grass out of the ground, shredding it into pieces in his hands while he watched the baby in Combeferre's lap fall asleep. He had thought about the notion that he could have a dragon ever since they had explained to him that every human had a dragon-companion. The thought that it might be this little creature was not really unsettling and Courfeyrac had to smile about the idea.

“Not only him. Bousset is also determined that she's yours. And R... for once in his life... is also positive about that.”, declared Combeferre carefully and scratched the baby behind her tiny horns, still leaned back onto one arm.

“And what do you think?”, asked Courfeyrac, Combeferre's opinion meaning more to him than the others. Not that he did not like them – quite the contrary – but he wanted Combeferre to say that she could be his dragon, that he would like her to be his dragon because that would mean that Courfeyrac would stay with them and fight alongside them for their cause.

Combeferre looked away and scratched the belly of the moth-wing-baby who started the content humming-purring-grumbling sound inert to dragons. He furrowed his brows and slowly shrugged his shoulders while Courfeyrac watched him intently.

“You cannot deny that she is very besotted with you.”, he said finally and smiled at him from beneath his lashes, something so adorable that Courfeyrac had to fight the urge to devour him there and then, “Everyone with eyes can see that. And I do believe that it was fate that you came to us shortly before we found her. Maybe they are right.”

“Fate?”, asked Courfeyrac in wonder, remembering Grantaire had told him that Combeferre was fascinated with the supernatural. It was no big leap from supernatural to the believe in fate and karma and all those things Courfeyrac usually denied.

Combeferre chuckled and turned to watch Parthenope duck into the water and blowing bubbles like a child while he said: “Yes, fate. Unless you don't believe in something so ridiculous as fate... like Enj always says...”

“Ridiculous?”, repeated Courfeyrac and wanted to agree whole-heartedly with the blond leader but remembered the advice he had gotten from Grantaire and changed his mind, “I wouldn't say it's ridiculous. Just... improbable...”

He watched Combeferre's slender fingers trace the patterns on the moth-wing-baby's back while he chuckled once again, clearly amused by Courfeyrac's stuttering. He cast him a short side glance and declared quietly: “We'll see tonight as soon as Bahorel has the rabbits skinned and de-boned.”

Courfeyrac sighed about Combeferre's enthusiasm and shook his head, leaning back on both arms, spreading his legs in front of him like Combeferre did and nudged his feet with one of his. Combeferre looked at him through the corner of his eyes again and smirked, his attention returning to Parthenope a second later.

“Oh shit!”, he gasped and leaned to the side, shielding the baby from the view of the lake with his body while covering his own face with an arm.

Courfeyrac wanted to turn his attention back to the lake to check what had caused Combeferre's protective reaction but he had no time at all to do so because a gigantic wave of water surged over him and drenched him to the bones, hair hanging in his eyes, water cascading down his back and arms while the wetness pooled in his lap.

Spluttering, Courfeyrac looked up and pushed his fringes out of his eyes, finding Combeferre next to him almost dry and laughing into his fist while Parthenope jumped around the narrow shore and if Courfeyrac wouldn't know any better, he was sure she was laughing her butt of about his shocked – and completely soaked – face.

“You scumbag!”, laughed Courfeyrac and tried to get the water out of his hair that was still running over his face and into his eyes, “You could have warned me. She's your pet, you should train her better.”

“You cannot train a dragon.”, laughed Combeferre and watched Courfeyrac delighted wring out his shirt, water dripping into the high grass, “And she never did that to anyone beside me before, so I really didn't think about it for just one second.”

“Of course!”, scolded Courfeyrac and got up, shaking the water out of his trousers and pointed at Parthenope who had drawn back into the water again, still watching him more than amused, “And you, Madame, you are in very big trouble!”

Parthenope waded around the shore and stuck her snout into the water, blowing humongous bubbles while she still watched Courfeyrac shake water from his hair and limbs. She looked too smug for a dragon if Courfeyrac should be the judge of that.

Turning around to Combeferre, he got aware that the young rider had been watching him intently and looked away caught when Courfeyrac's eyes found his. Stalking over to where he sat, Courfeyrac grabbed the hem of his shirt and drew it over his head, wringing it out over Combeferre's head with a strong twisting motion that had Combeferre spluttering and the moth-wing-baby shriek indignantly. Courfeyrac laughed.

“Revenge is so sweet.”, he grinned while shaking out his shirt, Combeferre brushing water from his hair and out of his face, smirking to himself while pointedly not looking at Courfeyrac. Combeferre took his glasses off and cleaned them into his shirt while Courfeyrac flung his shirt into the grass next to him, slumping down on his other side because the grass on his left side was still soaked and swampy.

“If you are cold, we can go back if you want.”, offered Combeferre and watched the baby crawl through the high grass, snap for grasshoppers and chase them with little attempts to fly on her still too weak wings. Courfeyrac wondered for a moment why the baby was so much more interesting than him, then he mentally shrugged his shoulders and settled for answering.

“Nah, I'm fine. It's a nice enough day and it would be a shame to take them in already. They seem to enjoy themselves.”, said Courfeyrac and leaned back on his lower arms, rolling his shoulders a little while taking a deep breath.

“Yeah...”, gave Combeferre back and still wouldn't look at Courfeyrac who suddenly had the very bad feeling that Combeferre felt awkward with him here.

“Are you... ehm...”, stuttered Courfeyrac and sat up again, crossing his legs and leaning forward a little, “Are you enjoying yourself? I mean... if you don't... we can always go back. I just... get back to Grantaire's room and leave you alone.”

Now Combeferre's head whipped around from watching the baby and he stared unbelieving into Courfeyrac's eyes before they flicked to his upper body, his shoulders, his neck and back to his eyes. He started shaking his head, taking up pace until Courfeyrac worried that he might throw up any second from the trauma he was giving himself.

“No, no I'm enjoying myself. Really, I didn't mean to give you the impression that I don't. I was just concerned for... well, you know... Joly would rip me to pieces if you caught a cold out here.”, explained Combeferre quickly and kept looking into Courfeyrac's eyes now, a nearly non-existent blush on his neck and ears.

“So you're merely concerned for your own hide than my well-being?”, teased Courfeyrac and poked him into the side playfully. Combeferre swatted equally playful at his finger and shook his head.

“Why do you always have to tease, Courfeyrac?”, he asked and only sounded half-amused.

Courfeyrac's heart somehow managed to leap when Combeferre had uttered his name as well as dropping to the floor when he heard the hint of disappointment in the other man's words. Courfeyrac slowly raised his shoulders and let them fall in a half-hearted shrug, not able to hold Combeferre's gaze.

“It makes life easier I guess... everyone loves a jester, don't they?”, asked Courfeyrac quietly and picked up the moth-wing-baby who had been pawing at his knee carefully.

“They do... But what if they wanted to see behind that mask someday to know _you_ better?”, asked Combeferre and the urgency in his voice made Courfeyrac look up and oh wow, Combeferre was close. He had leaned over and propped himself up on his left hand behind Courfeyrac's back. Courfeyrac nearly felt his breath on his cheek and had suddenly a very hard time to concentrate – or even think one straight thought.

“If they would insist... I would probably... don't know... be earnest?!”, stuttered Courfeyrac and couldn't lean away even if he wished.

Combeferre started smiling softly and nodded to himself while Parthenope came out of the water to curl up behind them. Courfeyrac ignored her while Combeferre was still watching him intently. He didn't know where this was going. No one – not even Marius – had ever questioned that his boisterous nature, his loud laugh and his merrymaking were sometimes a mask, a bulwark against anything that could come to close to him.

He had always, always wanted the best for the people around him. It had started with picking flowers for his mother as soon as he had been able to walk, with getting up as the first in the house and light the fire in the chimney in winter before his parents got up. It had made him climb into his father's lap whenever he had come home, sullen, tired and sad and had told him about his own day, about his adventures and the tricks he had played on teachers or his mother until his father would smile again and forget the cruel things he had seen. That was what had made him crawl into bed, hugging his mother while she was weeping from worries for his father when he did not come home from his patrol.

Later, when his parents had not been there anymore, he had taken to his new family like a moth to light: Marius and his grandfather. He had worked hard and became a good pupil to make Marius' grandfather proud. He had patiently listened to him talking about law and order during their dinner together, suggesting improvements that made Marius' grandfather smile and sometimes even think. He had not left Marius' side on his bad days, had made a fool of himself only to make him laugh again. He had seen countless plays he wasn't interested in for Marius and later on had started reading the books Marius liked just to be good company for him.

And even now, Courfeyrac felt that he was becoming increasingly interested in dragons and their story, just to see the riders happy and relieved that he learned and listened. Particularly the looks that Combeferre granted him whenever he asked questions, suggested something or recognized a pattern they had earlier explained to him made Courfeyrac's heart blossom with warmth. And he wanted to give his best so that those looks would become more often and even more caring.

He snapped out of his thoughts when Combeferre finally said quietly, still so very close to him: “I'm looking forward to that honesty...”

Courfeyrac grinned to himself and nudged Combeferre carefully, stuck for an answer but happy that Combeferre smiled content towards the lake. When Combeferre did not even flinch, Courfeyrac took a steadying breath and leaned into Combeferre's side, feeling him tense a little before smiling softly at Courfeyrac through the corner of his eyes.

The moth-wing-baby came jumping back through the high grass, tired from chasing the little insects around and curled up in Courfeyrac's lap after flicking her tongue at Combeferre when he reached out for her for a moment. Combeferre chuckled and watched the baby curl up in Courfeyrac's lap, close one claw around Courfeyrac's left forefinger and take a deep and relaxing breath.

“You know...”, mused Combeferre and cocked his head which then lightly rested on top of Courfeyrac's, taking his breath away completely, “... maybe you should really name her.”

“But I thought that should do her partner.”, said Courfeyrac and was amazed how sure and strong his voice sounded although he felt a hurricane whirl through his mind about sitting so close next to Combeferre, nearly in his arm, his head resting on top of Courfeyrac's and his thigh brushing against his own.

“I am fairly sure that she has already found her partner.”, emphasized Combeferre and smiled when the baby yawned and stretched a little.

“Fine.”, said Courfeyrac and scratched her stomach a little, “I already thought about a few things if I am required to be honest with you.”

Combeferre scoffed a little laugh through his nose and asked quietly: “What did you come up with then?”

Courfeyrac had a very hard time to concentrate while Combeferre reached over and traced a faded, white scar on his lower arm with a soft brush of his forefinger. He had that scar from one of his first fencing lessons, when Marius' reign on his sword had not been as good as it was now. Combeferre nearly caressed the scar carefully, tracing it up and down three times before taking his hand off again. Courfeyrac's skin burned where Combeferre had touched him and he recognized that he was still not answering Combeferre's question.

“It didn't escape my attention that nearly all dragons do have some kind of mythical names...”, announced Courfeyrac hastily and winked at Combeferre whose smile seemed to be glued to his face permanently, “So I was thinking I stick with that tradition and call her Andromeda.”

“Andromeda?”, echoed Combeferre and cocked his head to the other side, seeming surprised, “I like your thinking. And that makes you her Perseus?!”

“I'd rather be Hylas to someone's Heracles, if you want to know...”, chuckled Courfeyrac and once again was glad that he read the whole of the Greek myths that Marius had loved so much in their teenage days.

“I'll keep that in mind.”, said Combeferre in a deeper voice than usually and Courfeyrac looked up from where he had watched the newly baptised Andromeda fall asleep in his lap. Combeferre's eyes were half shadowed by his lids and one corner of his mouth was raised in an insinuative smile that Courfeyrac would have not thought to find on him. Combeferre was clearly full of surprises.

“As long as you don't let your water nymph back there abduct me.”, murmured Courfeyrac back and looked up at Combeferre, feeling a knot of anticipation tighten in his stomach while Combeferre's eyes flicked to Courfeyrac's lips for a second.

“Don't worry... I'd keep my Hylas close by and not allow him to get too close to water.”, purred Combeferre and the deep rumble in his chest made Courfeyrac shiver with a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time. He was hot all over again, but this time it was a much more comfortable heat than the flame root poison cursing through his veins.

His own eyes flicked to Combeferre's inviting lips and he licked his own in anticipation when his words ran dry from the knowledge that not only he found Combeferre absolutely breathtaking but that Combeferre also had some kind of attraction to him, be it emotional or solely physical. Right now, Courfeyrac couldn't care less of which kind it was because it was a beautiful day, he was alone with the most attractive, interesting and intelligent man he knew and that man was only seconds away from kissing him... what Courfeyrac had wished for ever since Combeferre had climbed off the back of his dragon nearly three weeks ago.

He closed his eyes when Combeferre's fingertips brushed over his lower arm again and pouted his lips in anticipation of a kiss. But the kiss never came, instead Courfeyrac felt Combeferre lean away again and opened his eyes nearly a little hurt. When he saw that Combeferre was staring into the sky, struggling to his feet, he was looking up as well and saw the source of the distraction: Swoboda and Ophelia were descending into the crack behind them, getting out of view quickly.

“Something's happened.”, announced Combeferre weary and offered Courfeyrac a hand to help him up, “They're back way too early. Something's not right. We need to get back. Parthenope!”

The blue dragon raised her head and looked alarmed at Combeferre who stooped to pick up Courfeyrac's shirt for him. Courfeyrac already stood, handing Andromeda to Combeferre while slipping on his still damp shirt while Combeferre and Parthenope already hurried towards the entrance to the tunnel.

They hurried up the tunnel in silence, Courfeyrac forgetting that he wanted to be mad about the distraction because he was worried what had made them return so soon. Combeferre soon vanished around a bend in front of him because Courfeyrac could not keep up yet. He was still a little too tired and his muscles still a little too weak to keep up with Combeferre. When he finally came into the landing cave, Feuilly and Swoboda were already taking off again, leaving Jehan, Joly and Musichetta in the cave, seeming troubled.

“What happened?”, asked Courfeyrac while Combeferre already talked to Joly, concern showing on his face.

Joly turned away from him and repeated himself so that Courfeyrac also knew what had happened on patrol: “Enjolras and the others encountered a humongous hunting party. We've never seen a party so big before. He had Jehan and Feuilly get us and bring us here again. Now Feuilly is getting Grantaire and Bousset while Cosette and Éponine should already be on their way back as well. Enjolras is very nervous.”

“Do you know anything about this?”, asked Combeferre and turned to Courfeyrac, anxiety showing on his features.

“No.”, lied Courfeyrac whose heart was racing in double speed. When he saw Combeferre's eyebrows narrow, he sighed deeply and admitted: “I don't know anything specific. I need more information. I might be able to help then.”

“Musichetta”, addressed Combeferre the young healer and sighed, “Do you think Parthenope is ready to fly again? I would like to go and help the others. We need to get them back. Romeo will be struggling with the girls _and_ Marius.”

“I know...”, sighed Musichetta and linked arms with Joly, “But I am afraid he has to manage without you. Parthenope might be able to fly but not with any riders. The injuries are still too fresh!”

“Shit...”, sighed Combeferre and ran a hand through his hair, Parthenope coming up behind him to nudge his shoulder soothing. He looked over his shoulder and patted her nostrils, then he sighed deep again and announced: “We better get into the main cave. We can do nothing right now.”

“Good idea.”, said Joly and started limping towards the living room while Jehan joined Courfeyrac.

“So how was your day up until now?”, he asked lightly and hooked himself under with Courfeyrac who looked quizzically at him, sensing that this question wasn't as innocent as Jehan had intended it.

“Nice, thanks for asking.”, gave Courfeyrac back and grinned while Jehan leaned in closer and almost whispered: “Tell me...”

“Nothing to tell.”

“Liar.”

“Not at all.”

“I know that glint in someone's eyes. And Combeferre's haven't glinted in that light in years.”

“You're way too nosey for your own good.”

Jehan laughed deep in his throat, a surprisingly light sound that made Courfeyrac smirk as well. While Joly showed Combeferre on a map where Enjolras and his patrol had seen the hunting party, Musichetta waived them over to the kitchen where she prepared some tea.

“You know... before he nags you to death, you better tell Jehan right away. He's a sucker for love stories.”, she lectured and hung some tea bags into mugs while the kettle started boiling.

“Who says there is a love story to tell?”, asked Courfeyrac and felt the smile on his face broaden until it felt like it was splitting his whole head.

“Geez, boy, have you seen your face whenever you talk about him lately? It practically screams _I am so ridiculously in love with him if love had a smell I would be reeking of it_...”, laughed Musichetta and poked Courfeyrac into the side, winking friendly while she looked over her shoulder where Joly still talked in hushed voices to Combeferre.

“What Chetta is actually trying to say is that you two are really radiating off the happiness and the appeal you feel for each other. The air between you is practically buzzing with the heat of your gazes and one can hear the unison your hearts beat in whenever you catch a glimpse of the other.”, sighed Jehan and leaned against the fridge, smiling dreamily at Courfeyrac who could not hold back the laughter that bubbled out of his throat.

“That's... well, thanks Jehan... That's really... poetic.”, laughed Courfeyrac because Jehan was still looking expectantly at him.

“I give my best.”, grinned Jehan, took the cup Musichetta offered, kissed her temple and went over to the bookcases where he collapsed into the oversized cushion he always sat in and grabbed one of the books from the stack next to him.

“He's.... unique...”, murmured Courfeyrac while he followed Musichetta to the sofas and sat down slowly, putting his cup down on the table.

“He indeed is.”, said Musichetta fondly and shot a look at the young man already buried deep in the book he was holding, “He's great. A little awkward and strange sometimes and you never know what's going on behind those dark blue eyes of his but he's a wonderful friend.”

Courfeyrac picked up his cup and took a sip while steps from the entrance of the cave caught his attention and the attention of the rest of the assembled rebels. Grantaire and Bousset came striding in, followed on the heel by their dragons. As soon as Grantaire saw Combeferre, he hurried over to him and let Combeferre give him a full explanation of what was going on. Bousset came over to Courfeyrac and Musichetta, kissed his girlfriend and slumped down next to her.

“On days like these I wish Lucky was just a little bit stronger. Swoboda already looks drop dead tired and Enjolras wanted Feuilly to join the patrol after he brought us here.”, sighed Bousset and rubbed his face thoroughly.

“You mean Swoboda got both you and Grantaire _and_ Feuilly here?”, asked Musichetta worried and shot a concerned look to Joly who hadn't heard them yet.

“Aye...”, murmured Bousset and snuggled up to her, Musichetta looping her arm around him carefully.

Courfeyrac had been watching Combeferre, Grantaire and Joly and decided to join them. His heart felt somehow contracted and his stomach was ice cold. If this was what it looked like, they were in big trouble. No, not all of them. Marius and he would be safe, the rebels – his friends – were in grave danger. Courfeyrac gulped while he neared the table, not sure how long he could keep them from worrying – how he could keep them from danger.

Grantaire looked up when he stepped next to him and tossed a loose page of parchment over the big map they had looked at. Joly shot him a reprimanding look while Combeferre shook his head annoyed.

“Enjolras' paranoia is really rubbing off on you sometimes.”, reprimanded Joly fondly and moved the parchment away while Grantaire scowled at him.

“He's still one of them.”, gave Grantaire back a little disgruntled and eyed Courfeyrac from the side, “He could only pretend to be our friend, did anybody of you think about that possibility?!”

“No.”, said Combeferre calmly and stared earnestly at Grantaire who rolled his eyes and groaned exasperated.

“Of course you haven't. He bewitched you right from the start!”, growled Grantaire sarcastically and shot Combeferre a sour look.

“Be civil, friends!”, ordered Joly and raised a patronizing hand, “We all liked Courfeyrac from the start because he is a very likeable person. Even you did, remember? You said you would like to have a drink or two with him as soon as he's better. So that's that. And R, don't you think Enjolras would have locked Courfeyrac up again if he didn't trust him? I think as long as Enj trusts him, we have no reason to hide anything from him.”

“Thank you.”, said Courfeyrac who had blushed a little about Joly's defensive speech about him.

Grantaire shook his head and sighed, rubbing his eyes with one hand while he grumbled: “Yeah, sorry, Courf. It's just... I always knew this day would come and I _always_ told Enjolras that it's not safe enough for us here. And I hate being right when it comes to such things...”

“What makes you think you are not safe here?”, asked Courfeyrac and watched Grantaire brush a few more papers from the map that he had drawn closer while the young sceptic exchanged a quick glance with Combeferre.

“We've met Enjolras and Bahorel on our way here. The hunting party counts almost a hundred warriors, heavily armed and in a hurry. They saw them here first”, declared Grantaire and pointed to a point northern of their hideout, “Enjolras sent Feuilly and Jehan out at once to get us back here. Bahorel and he followed the party in a save distance. They covered a relatively great distance in that time, which means they are here now.”

Grantaire ran his hand over the map southwards and pointed to an area in a south-western direction from their hideout. Courfeyrac gulped and followed the path they had taken with his eyes. They had described a quarter of a circle in about half a day. And Courfeyrac knew that they would keep up that circular movement because this was no hunting party, it was a war band searching for the prince. They would raid, burn and threaten the peasants and destroy anything in their way. Courfeyrac knew Marius' grandfather and he knew that he could be ruthless when it came to his grandchild.

“Did you raise a ransom yet?”, asked Courfeyrac, raising his face from watching the map after speaking only to see Combeferre and Grantaire exchanged an alarmed gaze.

Combeferre was the one answering his question when Grantaire nodded briefly: “Enjolras was against a ransom. He... wrote a pamphlet.”

“May I see it?”, asked Courfeyrac and scanned the map again.

He knew where they would go next. Luckily there was no village or city in the area, so the damage would not be that big. Courfeyrac's thoughts where whirling around wildly in his head while his heart seemed torn. Grantaire left to get him a pamphlet and Combeferre and Joly were watching him intently.

Courfeyrac knew that those were his men out in the woods. He knew many of them, knew their wives, their children, their parents. He had played games of dice with them, had drunk with them and had shared many happy hours with them. He had witnessed their weddings, baptisms of their children and funerals of their closest family. He knew that he was their superior but also their friend and he knew that most of them trusted him.

But if they found the rebels, they would not hesitate and kill every one of them save Enjolras. Enjolras would be taken to the capital, would face an unjust trial and be executed on the scaffold for everyone to see. And Courfeyrac would have to watch the whole scheme until the end. His heart cringed painfully with the thought of watching Enjolras die after loosing the rebels.

And he would loose every one of them if they were found. And Courfeyrac's men would not only kill them, oh no. They would carry out all the hatred, all the loathing that was forced into their heads from an early age on. They would corner them, beat them and make them watch how they killed their dragons one by one. The rebels would be left broken and shattered and then they would start their bloody work with them.

They would probably choose Jehan or Joly or one of the girls as the first. They were weak links and many would feel especially protective about them. His men would take their time to break them down, making all the others watch. Then they would continue man by man, woman by woman. They would not stop, their hearts would not be moved by begging. If they found out how much Grantaire meant to Enjolras, they would save him for last. And they would enjoy killing him while the blond man had to watch them.

“Courfeyrac?”

Joly's voice brought him out of his dark thoughts and Courfeyrac acknowledged that he was gripping the edge of the table white-knuckled and had his eyes closed, his head hung and his shoulders tensed. He straightened up and took a deep breath, then he looked over at Joly and Combeferre who both seemed concerned.

“Are you all right?”, asked Joly worrying and limped around the table to have a better look at him, “You really look like you'll faint any second.”

“Me and faint?”, asked Courfeyrac in a little shaky voice that did not serve the purpose of reassuring Joly, “Who do you think I am?”

“I think you are troubled.”, stated Combeferre low and crossed his arms.

“And I think he's not telling us everything.”, stated Grantaire who was back with the pamphlet, handing it to Courfeyrac. His tone did not testify to any hostility, but his eyes were calculating, assessing, almost afraid. Courfeyrac understood in that moment that Grantaire did fear more for his friends – that were a family to him, Courfeyrac was sure about that – than about himself and that he would defend them to the bitter end.

Courfeyrac took the pamphlet from his hand and said a little evasive: “I need to know what that pamphlet says, then we can talk about... what's going on.”

Grantaire narrowed his eyes and shot Combeferre a short, warning glance, then he crossed his arms and leaned with his hip against the table, watching Courfeyrac whose eyes flew over the pamphlet.

Enjolras really hadn't raised a ransom. The pamphlet was well written and stated that the heir to the throne was with the rebels, learned about the true nature of dragons and had agreed to fight alongside the rebels for more rights for dragons and their owner. But Enjolras also claimed that Marius was willing to fight injustice and despotism in the land which was entirely new to Courfeyrac.

“Taire!”, called a voice and dragged Courfeyrac out of his thoughts. He looked up and found Éponine march into the cave, Prokno whirling around her head while Cosette and Marius followed on her heels, both seeming nervous and in a hurry.

“What the fuck is going on?”, asked Éponine and approached the huge table.

“Calm down, Ponine.”, begged Joly and nodded to Courfeyrac who turned his attention back to the paper.

“Not until you tell me what's going on.”, demanded Éponine and crossed her arms, eyes blinking fiercely.

“We are trying to find that out ourselves, Courfeyrac is on it.”, said Combeferre and cast a glance at Courfeyrac who had looked up a moment when Combeferre had used his name.

It was difficult to concentrate while the others around him were still bickering about the hurried orders to return to the mountain. Courfeyrac tried to get back to the mindset he had had only a few weeks ago, tried to look through the eyes of the royalty of the realm, especially through the eyes of Marius' grandfather and his advisers. Slowly he succeeded in finding a pattern in the pamphlet and started shaking his head.

“Lies...”, he mumbled.

“What the hell did you just say?”, snapped Éponine whose nerves seemed to be too strained to lower her voice or reign her temper.

“I said all they will see in this are lies.”, explained Courfeyrac and put the pamphlet down, “They will not believe one word of what Enjolras wrote.”

“When have they ever believed me?”, asked Enjolras who came into the cave at that moment. Feuilly and Bahorel were with him, both with severely tousled hair and red faces. But even in that debauched look, Enjolras seemed like an ancient hero as he strode towards the table and took a stand between Courfeyrac and Grantaire – who carefully took his hand and squeezed it, earning a small smile from Enjolras.

“Whenever they found a troop of our soldiers killed.”, answered Courfeyrac and pushed the pamphlet towards the blond leader who eyed him interested, “But other than that I think they don't see how dangerous you and your men really can be. I think they underestimate how deep your ties to the common people are.”

“So you think they will believe that Marius is with us?”, asked Cosette and smiled at the prince who blushed a little.

“As long as Marius is with you and declares himself as your supporter, they'll believe you.”, announced Courfeyrac and scrutinized Marius for a moment. When his friend gave him a short nod, Courfeyrac smiled at him and turned to Enjolras again. “Where were the soldiers when you last saw them?”

“Here.”, said Enjolras and pointed to a part of the map southern of where the mountain was.

Everyone stepped closer to the table and watched Courfeyrac while he narrowed his eyebrows and redrew the path of the warriors with two fingers. His darkest worries had been proven right. He brazed himself against the edge of the table and looked up at Enjolras who was watching him.

“This is no simple hunting party.”, he announced and was concious of his voice echoing through the whole cave, all eyes trained on him, “Their movements are not the pattern of hunting parties. That is a war band, a full grown, dangerous and destructive war band on a mission.”

“That is?”, asked Combeferre and seemed to take the words out of everyone else's mouth.

“Find the prince and kill whoever it is who has captured him. And they will burn, raid and destroy everything that will stand in their way.”, declared Courfeyrac calmly and could not take his eyes off Combeferre's face.

“Shit!”, cursed Bahorel.

“Oh my God...”, breathed Musichetta.

“For fuck's sake.”, groaned Éponine.

“Bloody hell!”, snapped Grantaire.

“Silence.”, ordered Enjolras quietly and took a deep breath while he turned back to Courfeyrac, “You knew this?”, he asked and it sounded a little bit more like a statement than Courfeyrac liked.

“No, I didn't.”, said Courfeyrac and tried to look as honest as humanly possible, “I knew that they would sooner or later try to contact you, but as I did not know that you didn't raise a ransom, I didn't know that this would happen.”

“But you know their movements?”, asked Feuilly and leaned forward, scanning the map with quick eyes.

“I do.”, confessed Courfeyrac and reached out to point to the map and illustrate what he was telling them now, “They will search the area in a circular movement. As soon as they close the circle, they will start spiralling inwards. I guess they will get to the mountain in about three days. And they will destroy everything that's loyal to you, including the village Cosette and Éponine went to today.”

When Courfeyrac looked up he saw how Éponine paled and Cosette took her hand to squeeze it reassuring. He pointed to the map and returned his eyes to Enjolras.

“But how did they know where to look?”, asked Bahorel and flexed his muscles, glaring at Marius and Courfeyrac in turns, “Did you sent them a message about your whereabouts?”

“Of course not!”, said Marius quite outraged about this accusation.

“You probably left them a very nice clue about that.”, mused Courfeyrac and straightened up, crossing his arms.

“The horses...”, groaned Feuilly and facepalmed himself quite hard.

“Did no one take care of their horses?”, asked Enjolras and glared in turns at Bahorel, Feuilly and Grantaire.

“We might have... _forgotten_ that.”, confessed Grantaire a little sheepish and could not look at Enjolras while Éponine groaned and Combeferre rubbed his face a little annoyed.

Silence settled over the gathering while everyone thought about what Courfeyrac had just told them. He watched them carefully, seeing fear and worries and hatred on the faces of his new friends in equal shares. He suddenly felt the urge to talk again, to make them see the danger they were in.

“It is not save here for you any longer.”, he said quietly and tapped the mountain on the map once, “They will be here in three days tops. And you can not fight them.”

“We can not just leave.”, said Éponine pressed and Bousset nodded.

“We can not leave the people and the dragons in the area to their fate.”, he declared and made a desperate face.

“The dragons are smart.”, said Grantaire dryly, “They wild ones will be out of here in no time and will return once the danger is over.”

“And the villagers know how to handle guards.”, said Bahorel and scratched his nose, “They are not dumb. They know when it's better to stay silent and obedient.”

“This mountain is impregnable.”, said Enjolras calmly and scrutinized Courfeyrac, “We are save here.”

“They will lay a siege if they are certain you are here.”, declared Courfeyrac and exchanged a short glance with Marius as if to check if telling them all their tactics was allowed. Marius did not interrupt him or shake his head so Courfeyrac went on: “They will smoke you out if they must and then they will stay at your heels. Even dragons have to land sometime and then they will be there. And if that does not work out, they will sooner or later find the secret passage into the mountain and attack. Enjolras, listen to me.”

He stepped forward and grabbed Enjolras' elbow. No one moved and Enjolras raised a surprised eyebrow about the urgency in Courfeyrac's voice. He was standing only centimetre away from him now and lowered his voice a little to make the blond man see how important the following was.

“They will kill all of you, all but yourself.”, he said and saw the others exchanged glances out of the corner of his eyes, “They will butcher every dragon they find here and then they will slaughter your friends one by one. They will bring you to the capital and hold a mock-trial just to humiliate you. And then they will kill you for the whole realm to see.”

“Then we'll die martyrs.”, said Enjolras calmly. Courfeyrac heard how Combeferre cleared his throat and muttered Enjolras' name. The blond sighed and exchanged a quick glance with his lieutenant before looking back at Courfeyrac to ask: “What do you suggest?”

“Leave.”, said Courfeyrac without hesitation, “Hide somewhere. They will not extend their radius if they won't find you. Stay down for a month or two and you'll be safe again.”

“And what about you?”, asked Enjolras and cocked his head, “What about the First Hunter of the realm? What will you do?”

Courfeyrac felt how all eyes were directed at him at once. He felt the hopeful stares of Joly, Bousset, Musichetta, Jehan and Combeferre, the assessing glances of Feuilly, Bahorel, Éponine and Cosette and the critical glance of Grantaire. Courfeyrac let go of Enjolras' elbow and straightened up, rolling his shoulders back and staring straight into Enjolras' blue eyes.

“I stopped being First Hunter of the realm the moment I saw you stepping into the flames of your dragon. I am a free man with a free mind and I have made that mind up. I think your cause might be more than just to rouse some trouble in the realm. I think you are even fighting for more than just freedom for dragons. And... if you want me... I would like to join you and fight for a better future for our realm.”, said Courfeyrac in a loud, vibrating voice that was heard in the whole cave.

Enjolras started to smile – genuinely, openly smiled at Courfeyrac. He grasped Courfeyrac's shoulder and squeezed it happily. Then he grabbed his other shoulder and shook him just a little bit while he still smiled and shook his head.

“I am glad to hear those words... finally.”, he said and patted his shoulder once more before letting go, “I think I owe both Combeferre and Feuilly a fine sum of money.”

“Pay-time, R.”, laughed Joly and winked at the man to Enjolras' other side who rolled his eyes.

The tense atmosphere in the air vanished a little while several people laughed and Cosette came over to hug Courfeyrac tightly. He wrapped her up as well and even dared to kiss her temple while she laughed and thanked him. When he let go off her, he caught a glance at Combeferre who stood at the other side of the table, arms crossed, eyes trained hard on him, a fond smile on his features.

Courfeyrac could have doubted his step, could have wondered if this had been the right thing to do, could have worried that he had made a mistake. But with the hug from Cosette, the patting on the shoulder by many of the others and the fond smile that Combeferre shot him over the table, Courfeyrac was sure that he had taken one step closer to the place he wanted to have in life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long for this chapter to upload. I had a lot to do at uni but I promise to keep updating more regularly in the future!!! Also, this chapter is very short because I needed it to link the first half of the story to the second half. But I promise the next chapters will be longer again!


	4. Chapter 4

“You know, those are actually illegal.”

Everyone looked up from where they were settled down on the sofas or the cushions. Courfeyrac straightened up and pushed at Jehan's shoulder who had been leaning into his side, legs folded over Joly's legs who sat half in Grantaire's lap, showing him something in an ancient looking volume about healing herbs. Courfeyrac would never have expected a pile of limbs and hard bones to be that comfortable, but these men made it work.

Feuilly came back into the cave and Courfeyrac did not miss the steep wrinkle that built between Feuilly's brows when he saw how Jehan leaned against Courfeyrac in the most familiar way. He also didn't miss that Combeferre was staring over Enjolras' shoulder at the pair of them, ignoring the chess game entirely. When Courfeyrac caught his eyes, he looked back at Enjolras' face in an instant, probably feeling caught.

Now Courfeyrac turned his attention back to what had roused Marius' disapproval and found Éponine puffing away on a cigarette, extending the package to Grantaire who made grabby fingers for the pack to get himself one too.

“If you haven't noticed...”, announced Jehan and turned a page of his book slowly, “... we are rebels, we don't really care if something is illegal or not.”

Almost everyone chuckled while Courfeyrac watched Grantaire light his cigarette mesmerized. Bousset drew the last cigarette out of the package before anyone could say anything and got the lighter from Éponine.

Grantaire got aware that Courfeyrac was watching him, put his head back onto the headrest and blew the smoke out of his lungs, eyes trained on Enjolras who had turned in his seat for a moment.

“Enjoying the view, Hunter?”, asked Grantaire teasingly and took another drag at the cigarette after looking back at Courfeyrac.

“I think I haven't smoke since they got abolished.”, confessed Courfeyrac and inhaled the smell of the three smokers. He had never been a massive smoker but he had enjoyed the occasional cigarette until they got banned when he had been younger – much younger... maybe too young.

“Sorry, not one left.”, said Éponine and blew the smoke teasingly at him.

“You could offer me a drag...”, said Courfeyrac quietly and watched Grantaire smoke exaggerated, his eyes flicking at Enjolras from time to time.

“I'm not sharing...”, grinned Éponine and waived her cigarette about.

“Don't look at me.”, refused Bousset even before Courfeyrac could address him, “I'll end up setting you on fire by accident or something.”

“And all that after I've saved your arses.”, grumbled Courfeyrac and folded his arms in a pretended huff.

“Not yet.”, grinned Jehan and got a light poke into the ribs from Courfeyrac that made him giggle a little.

Grantaire took a deep, long drag form his cigarette while he sat up carefully, nearly dropping Joly off his lap who left a little indignant.

Courfeyrac was positive that he would start teasing him about the smoking any second now, but he held the smoke in his lungs and ordered pressed: “Lean forward.”

“What?”, asked Courfeyrac but let Jehan drag him forward a little.

“Ooooh, Grantaire's speciality.”, grinned Bousset and caught Joly while he slumped down between him and Musichetta.

“What?”, repeated Courfeyrac and saw how Enjolras turned even further on his chair, eyes trained hard at Grantaire but no warning in them, mere curiosity and maybe a little suspicion. Courfeyrac wondered what that was all about while Grantaire's eyes flicked from his face to Enjolras' and back again.

“Lean forward!”, ordered Grantaire again and grabbed him by the collar as soon as he was in reach.

Grantaire dragged Courfeyrac half over Jehan's lap and brought Courfeyrac's face close to his, so close that Courfeyrac could see the amber spots in his green eyes. His voice was low when he ordered: “Open your mouth.”

“Wha...”, repeated Courfeyrac a few octaves higher than usually and then Grantaire blew the smoke into his mouth – his lips only a few millimetre away from Courfeyrac's – and Courfeyrac inhaled automatically.

The feeling was not as good as he remembered and he almost immediately regretted asking for a drag. It was a little rough, a little scratchy and tasted bitter, like too strong coffee standing for too long by a smoking fire. He opened his eyes and saw Grantaire smile, blowing smoke through his nose.

Courfeyrac coughed and leaned back, eyes burning and throat sore. The smoke vanished from his lungs and he kept coughing while Grantaire leaned back, laughing, Jehan giggling and the rest of the rebels also laughing. He got aware how Enjolras rose from his chair and marched out of the cave, shooting Grantaire a pointed look, his face red and his eyes so intense that Courfeyrac nearly shuddered.

“Works all the time.”, grinned Grantaire smugly and got up as well, grinding his cigarette into an ashtray before following Enjolras accompanied by wolf-whistles of his friends.

Courfeyrac caught on to what was happening and crossed his arms, coughing once more lightly before complaining: “I feel used.”

“Don't.”, grinned Joly and patted his knee, reaching up from the floor, “We all play our part in the little games R and Enjolras play to get the other to bed. It's quite entertaining when you're used to it.”

“A little warning would be appreciated next time.”, smiled Courfeyrac and took his glass from the table to clear the taste of burnt shoes out of his mouth.

“Courfeyrac.”

Courfeyrac looked up and found Combeferre standing next to the sofa, arms crossed and face a little strained. He saw how Combeferre's adam's apple bopped up and down from gulping multiple times and something in his stomach contracted painfully while Combeferre continued in the same strained, only-half-composed voice: “Would you give me a hand in changing Parthenope's dressings?”

“Yes!”, said Courfeyrac and scrambled up, Jehan nearly falling off the sofa when he left so hurriedly, “Yes of course, no problem.”

He hurried past the sofa and the armchair Feuilly sat in and heard Bousset chuckle to Musichetta: “Someone's having their first fight.”

“Shut up...”, giggled Musichetta as Courfeyrac shot him a warning glance while stumbling after Combeferre who was striding away with a straight back and hands clenched into loose fists by his sides.

Courfeyrac's heart was racing while he followed Combeferre into the dragon cave. He could not shake the feeling that he should not have allowed Grantaire to draw him into that nearly-kiss, even if it had just been for Grantaire's little scheme and nothing else. Combeferre's shoulders were tense and his jaws worked hard, Courfeyrac could see that even in the dull light in the cave and he suddenly worried that Combeferre felt betrayed – maybe even cheated on.

Parthenope looked up startled when the two men came closer, not talking, walking in a great hurry up to her without looking at each other. Combeferre knelt down next to her and patted her wing before bending over to loosen the bow at the underside of the wing. Courfeyrac stood close by, unsure of what to do, wringing his hands only a little while Combeferre busied himself with the dressings, seemingly ignoring him.

His face was flushed, the red colour sitting high on his cheeks and spreading over his ears, neck and down into the neckline of his shirt while he worked on the dressing. He had turned his back to Courfeyrac which made him feel like suffocating. He could have dealt with Combeferre shouting, with blaming, with a row, but not this silence. Courfeyrac decided to do something about that, even if he still was not sure what was actually going on.

“Do you... ehm... what shall I do?”, he asked, taking a step towards one of the supply chests in the corner. He saw Combeferre tense his shoulders even more before he answered pressed: “Nothing, thanks. I'm fine.”

“I don't think that's true.”, said Courfeyrac a little hesitantly and tried to give his voice a light-hearted ring, because nothing had happened, had it not? There was nothing between him and Grantaire, nothing at all. And there was nothing between him and Jehan either, so why should Combeferre be hurt? Had Combeferre even the right to be hurt? At least there had nothing happened between him and Courfeyrac that would justify that guilty feeling in Courfeyrac's chest.

Combeferre remained silent and cast aside the dressings Parthenope had worn while his dragon looked back and forth between the two of them a little confused. Courfeyrac crossed his arms and sighed a little tired. He decided that it was best to do what he was best at, namely talking. He gave his words a little humorous ring when he said: “You want me to be honest with you and you do not even blush while lying... Well, at least not a lot. Pink suits you.”

“I didn't lie.”, clipped Combeferre and got up, intending to step around Courfeyrac to the chest with the dressings.

Courfeyrac took a step sideways and stepped into Combeferre's way, stopping him mid-stride otherwise he would have collided with Courfeyrac. Combeferre was standing only a few centimetres away from Courfeyrac now and Courfeyrac had to look up slightly to see his eyes.

Combeferre would not look at him, his jaw still set, his eyes still a little narrowed down and his cheeks still pink. Courfeyrac bit down on his bottom lip for a moment, then he sighed and stepped aside.

Combeferre strode over to the chest and opened it to take out new dressings. Courfeyrac was at his wits' end and sat down on the closed chest while Combeferre strode back to Parthenope to dress her wing. The dragon drew away her wing and scowled at Combeferre who groaned annoyed.

“Hold still!”, commanded Combeferre harsher than he had ever talked to Parthenope and Courfeyrac raised both eyebrows in surprise. Parthenope straightened up just a little more and huffed a puff of fire at him that brushed his shoulder but did – of course – no harm to Combeferre. He raised a warning finger and threatened: “You better behave now, Madame, or I'll...”

“Don't carry it out on her, she didn't do anything. As I didn't.”, said Courfeyrac quietly and grinned when Combeferre whirled around, his glasses glinting in the light of the electric bulbs. His mouth snapped open and shut immediately a few times before Combeferre got himself under control again, closed his eyes and took a steadying breath.

“I didn't say you did anything.”, he said, still a little pressed.

Courfeyrac crossed his legs slowly and folded his hands on his knee, raising both eyebrows at Combeferre and smiled a little coquette before he said: “So that's why you act so strange. Because nothing happened and I did nothing.”

“I didn't say that nothing _happened_.”, gave Combeferre back and started untangling the fresh dressings, casting occasional glances at Courfeyrac.

“You know”, sighed Courfeyrac and cocked his head with a smile on his face, “You haven't said a lot of things since dinner. Why exactly are we here then, Combeferre, if I didn't _do_ anything but _something_ has happened?”

“I...”, said Combeferre and fell silent, sighing deeply, dropping the dressing and staring at his shoes, “I wanted to change the dressing and have a little...”

He broke off and seemed completely embarrassed all of a sudden. He took his glasses off, pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. Courfeyrac slowly got the impression that he was knowing what made Combeferre act like this. So he simply unfolded his legs, leaned forward and propped himself up to the left and right of his thighs, prompting: “A little what?”

Combeferre looked at him again, his glasses still off – and Courfeyrac be damned, without those glasses he looked even more gorgeous than with them – and his cheeks coloured pink again. He pressed his fist to his lips and cleared his throat a little awkward while Courfeyrac waited for a reply.

“You were quite busy with Jehan and R the whole evening.”, said Combeferre a little evasive and put his glasses back on, “I was just thinking you would maybe be upset if I checked on Parthenope alone...”

Courfeyrac had started grinning as soon as Combeferre had finished his first sentence, nearly not hearing the rest of what he said. He got up from the chest slowly and stepped to Combeferre, standing close to him again, looking up at him. Combeferre still shirked from his gaze and seemed to blush even a little deeper shade of pink while Courfeyrac felt warm all over, his heart beating quickly in his chest and his hands shaking from excitement – the good kind of excitement... the best kind.

“You were _jealous_.”, stated Courfeyrac simply and bestowed one of his most beaming smiles at Combeferre who blinked rapidly and could not look at him.

“I weren't... I mean, I wasn't...”, he stuttered and stepped back a little.

Courfeyrac laughed delighted and followed suit – even stepping deeper into Combeferre's personal space, their chests nearly brushing against each other – while he purred in a teasing voice: “You were jealous of R and Jehan, weren't you? Admit it...”

“No! I wasn't... I mean...”, stuttered Combeferre and finally looked at Courfeyrac again whose smug grin wouldn't fade. Their eyes met and Courfeyrac shuddered about the intensity in Combeferre's eyes, the jealousy he could really see there, the edge of longing that made it almost painful to look into those ember coloured pools that shone nearly golden in the dim light of the cave.

Courfeyrac's smile and his closeness seemed to calm Combeferre and he started to smile a little too, more of a smirk than an actual smile. He licked his lips – a more mesmerizing thing than Courfeyrac had ever seen – and started nodding very slowly before he said in a very low, humming voice: “Well... all right... I admit it, I might have been just a little bit...”

He broke off and Courfeyrac was aware how his eyes flicked multiple times to Courfeyrac's lips. His mouth was only closed loosely and it wasn't much effort to push the tip of his tongue out to slowly lick his lower lip. Combeferre's eyes were trained at that gesture and Courfeyrac literally saw how he lost his entire train of thoughts.

“A little bit...?”, prompted Courfeyrac in a low, sweet voice and raised his hand, his fingertips brushing over the back of Combeferre's hand before he carefully interwove their fingers.

Combeferre did not draw his hand back but the small smile that lit his face and made his eyes gleam was enough for Courfeyrac to feel light-headed, his heart overflowing and his stomach dancing with an army of butterflies – no, most likely moths, because Combeferre liked moths, so they had to be moths. He watched Combeferre bend towards him carefully, his eyes flicking between Courfeyrac's eyes and his lips, his hand coming up to gently rest against Courfeyrac's jawline, his fingertips sending waves of energy and excitement down Courfeyrac's spine which made his heart leap.

“Jealous.”, mumbled Combeferre only millimetres away from Courfeyrac's lips and Courfeyrac closed his eyes because this moment was perfect, it was pure perfection and nothing, not even a citron parachute intent on ripping Courfeyrac to tiny pieces would interrupt them now.

Combeferre's lips on his were even softer and more careful than his fingertips against his skin and Courfeyrac couldn't stop himself from smiling while he felt Combeferre's breath brush his lips and skin. Courfeyrac raised to tiptoes and wrapped his free hand around the back of Combeferre's neck, pulling him down while steadying himself at the same time. Combeferre's other arm slowly wound around Courfeyrac's waist and pulled him against his chest, making Courfeyrac's breathing faster and his hand in Combeferre's neck tighten.

When they finally broke apart – panting for breath, their eyes glinting with a new light and their cheeks pinker than the pink of the sunset – they were smiling like fools and would not let go off the other. When Courfeyrac decided to finally speak, still in Combeferre's arm, he was sure Combeferre felt his breath on his lips when he whispered: “I'll continue doing nothing although something is happening if you kiss me every time like that afterwards.”

“Oh, just _shut_ the fuck up!”, chuckled Combeferre under his breath and sealed their lips together once more, silencing Courfeyrac's bubbly laughter before it could leave the cave and draw any attention to them.

The next thing that made them part from another was a rumbling laughter from the other side of the cave. Slowly they let go off each other – Courfeyrac rejoicing silently that Combeferre was not flinching away from him with the sound of someone finding them kissing – and turned to the entrance to the pantry cave where Bahorel had appeared.

“Well, well, well. Look at you two love-birds.”, he grinned and came towards them, patting Combeferre's back heavily while he winked at Courfeyrac who stood a pace next to Combeferre, “We leave you out of sight for a moment and you pounce at each other.”

“Bahorel.”, reprimanded Combeferre fondly and shook his head while Courfeyrac took his hand again, smiling fondly up at him.

“Anyway...”, grinned the strong rider and shook a little bowl he had brought along, “Skinned and un-boned, as you wished. Ready to be fed to Andromeda.”

He handed the bowl to Courfeyrac and nervousness flared in his guts once more while he stared down at the dark red meat of the rabbit that Bahorel had skinned for him to feed to Andromeda. Combeferre gave his hand an encouraging squeeze and said: “I'll just finish dressing Parthenope's wing, then I join you, all right?”

Courfeyrac nodded and let go hesitantly of Combeferre's hand while Bahorel ushered him towards the main cave. As soon as they were out of earshot, Bahorel elbowed him and murmured: “Well done, I already thought no one could ever bring Ferre out of his shell.”

“Thanks, I guess.”, said Courfeyrac and winked, “But there was not that much coaxing involved. Mainly unfounded jealousy.”

“Which sometimes works as well as anything else.”, grinned Bahorel and wrapped an arm around Courfeyrac's shoulders as they entered the main cave.

Grantaire and Enjolras were still nowhere to be seen while the rest of the rebels launched in the living room space, talking, laughing, drinking wine. Courfeyrac had to shield the bowl with a hand from Prokno in a nosedive who was aiming to steal some of the meat. Chimera and Phoenix were with him in the blink of an eye, swirling around him and Bahorel and producing that humming-purring-grumbling sound that Courfeyrac meanwhile knew all too well.

“Hey, you're back!”, called Joly happily and elbowed Bousset to turn around, “Do you have the meat?”

“In here!”, gave Bahorel back and sat down on the armrest of Feuilly's armchair, leaning down to kiss the flock of ginger hair while Feuilly grinned up at him. Jehan – sitting to Feuilly's feet now, seemingly reading some poetry to him – watched them nearly a little jealous and Courfeyrac felt bad for him. If only Feuilly trusted a little more in himself to see that he really could be enough for two men and would not have to disappoint someone in a three-way-relationship.

“Oh great!”, rejoiced Joly and clapped his hands with glee while Andromeda crawled out of his lap and towards Courfeyrac who had meanwhile Chimera sitting on his shoulder and Prokno dangling head first off of his sleeve.

“Could you _please_ get your dragons off me?!”, asked Courfeyrac a little annoyed after he nearly dropped the bowl in an attempt to fend Phoenix off once more who tried to distract him while Chimera and Prokno were set on stealing meat.

“Probably not as long as you have fresh meat on you.”, grinned Éponine but snapped her fingers so that Prokno reluctantly set off and landed on her shoulder where Cosette tickled his small chest.

“But that's for Andromeda!”, said Joly excited and tried to get the baby back into his lap, “It will be her first proper meal with the protein. Oh, I'm so excited! Where's Ferre?”

“Busy...”, grinned Bahorel and nudged Courfeyrac a few times while winking at him. Courfeyrac rolled his eyes at him and sat down on the sofa where Marius had made some space for him.

“Then go and get him!”, ordered Joly, struggling up as well to shoo Marius from the sofa to sit down next to Courfeyrac, “And someone go and get Enjolras and R, we really should all be here when Courfeyrac... when Andromeda and Courfeyrac...”

“Joly, sweety...”, said Musichetta calmly and shook her head at him while Joly took Chimera off Courfeyrac's shoulder and pushed her onto his own while he plucked Phoenix off him as well.

“Whose getting Ferre?”, asked Joly and ignored the fond reprimand of his girlfriend, his eyes sparkling with anticipation and excitement, “And whose getting Enjolras and Grantaire?”

“I think no one's particularly eager to intrude on them now...”, mentioned Feuilly and grinned a little insecure while Bahorel roared a laughter.

“You are all chicken.”, said Jehan and rose to his feet with the sure and smooth movements of a man on a mission, “It's just love in its purest form. We should not be afraid of sharing in such a moment but rather rejoice to be witness of the deep bond of...”

“I think Enjolras will use that deep bond to strangle you if you dare knock on his door now.”, laughed Musichetta and shook her head while Cosette shivered with utter disgust.

“And afterwards Taire will most likely reanimate you only to skin you alive afterwards...”, added Éponine and toasted towards Musichetta.

“Could we _please_ stop discussing the interruption of my brother having sex? Thank you very much!!!”, said Cosette a little too loud and everyone was laughing by then while Jehan just rolled his eyes and strode off towards the quarters with sure steps.

“He's not really doing that now?”, asked Courfeyrac and watched Jehan disappear while Andromeda snuggled up to him, sniffing suspiciously at the bowl with the meat.

“Oh he's _so_ doing that now.”, affirmed Bahorel and draped an arm around Feuilly, grinning wickedly.

“Whose doing what?”, asked Combeferre from the entrance to the cave and Courfeyrac's heart started leaping only from seeing him stride towards the sofas, scratching Lucky under the chin while passing her.

“Jehan is going to get Enjolras and Grantaire here because Joly can't wait for Courfeyrac to feed Andromeda.”, explained Marius with a little awkward grin while Cosette groaned exasperated and hid her face in her hands, Marius brushing carefully over her back to console her.

“Blimey... he's a brave man.”, grinned Combeferre and sat down in the armchair next to Feuilly, his eyes never leaving Courfeyrac while he still wore that smile that made Courfeyrac shiver all over.

He got aware how both Éponine's and Musichetta's eyes were flicking back and forth between the two of them before they looked at each other and grinned even wider. Courfeyrac shot them a warning look but send a wink and a smile after that so that both smiled even wider than before.

“I'm so excited!”, huffed Joly and bounced a little on the sofa, “How long can it possibly take to knock on a door and get those two here?!”

“I think Jehan will not just leave it at knocking.”, grinned Bahorel and leaned back with a teasing smile towards Cosette, “He'll walk right in and then he'll probably see the writhing forms of...”

“Oh my god, Bahorel, _shut up_!”, yelled Cosette, half laughing, half looking like she wanted to behead herself with bear hands in right that moment.

The group exploded laughing while Courfeyrac was looking back at Combeferre who still looked at him and he so wished that he could skip the whole feeding thing, go over, take his hand and go somewhere a little more private. Those two kisses had not been enough by far after being so rudely interrupted by the lake. And if he remembered correctly, he could still come back to that offer of helping him undress because Combeferre had never said no to that cheeky remark.

His train of thoughts was being interrupted when Jehan galloped back to the sofas, giggling like a maniac, slumping down on top of Feuilly and hiding his face at his neck.

“What the hell's the matter with you?”, asked Bahorel and pushed a strand of Jehan's hair out of his face while Feuilly wrapped his arm a little hesitantly around Jehan's waist to stabilize him.

“This might have been the first and _only_ time I've seen Enjolras stuck for words.”, giggled Jehan and cleared his throat to look curiously at Joly, “Did you know that R has a tattoo? On his hipbone?”

“No I didn't!”, said Joly indignantly and shook his head rapidly so that Chimera nearly fell off his shoulder, “We might be best friends, but we're not _that_ close.”

“I knew.”, grinned Bousset and both Musichetta and Joly looked so scandalized at him that the rest could not help but laugh amused.

Courfeyrac looked around the smiling faces, the laughing faces, the faces watching others fondly and amused. And for the first time in a very, very long time, Courfeyrac felt like he could finally belong somewhere. He had liked his post as First Hunter for the few people he had to work with, for the few soldiers who gave him the feeling that he was wanted, liked. But these few people here, this small group, these rebels... it was different with them.

There had not been one judgemental look – well, aside from those when he had been arrested. But after his poisoning – maybe even during it – these people had started to care for him, without knowing him. They had wanted to get to know him, they had met him without prejudice and had found that he was worth spending time with. There was no suspicion anymore, no hard feelings, no friendliness that came only from servility like it had been with so many of the soldiers who had pretended to be his friends only to rise in the order of things. They wanted to be around him because they liked him.

And Courfeyrac liked them. He liked them a lot. In those three weeks that he had spent with them, he felt more at home than anywhere else in the realm. He liked each and everyone of them for what they were and didn't have to act nice around them because they were important personal of the realm.

He liked Grantaire for his sceptic, snarky way of speaking and for the soft heart and the caring nature that shone through his harshness from time to time. He liked Joly for his excitement, for his happiness and his enthusiasm but also for his worrying, for his care and even for his slight panicky nature. He liked Bousset for his careless laugh and for his way of handling his own clumsiness, for holding up his head although the odds seemed never to be in his favour. He liked Musichetta for keeping up with those two, for her grounding and reasonable way of handling things, for her strong personality and her motherly qualities.

He liked Feuilly for his cool and grounded way of approaching things, for his hard working lifestyle and his ambition to help whoever he could. He liked Bahorel's booming laughter, the way he always played with the role of the fearsome warrior who – in reality – was too good for this world. He liked Jehan for his naïve and innocent way of looking at the world, for his dreamy voice and his unique sense of humour.

He liked Éponine for her harsh behaviour through which her gentle and caring heart shone although she liked to hide it behind sarcasm and sharp words. He liked Cosette for being the always calm and quiet presence that gave reassurance to everyone who needed it but could also be resolute and strong minded when the situation required it.

He admired Enjolras. He liked his way of thinking and his brittle way of handling people sometimes. But he also liked how Enjolras could sometimes not keep the smile off his face and how his concerns and worries sometimes shone through that brittle shell. And he believed that Enjolras had a vision. A vision that would lead the people of the realm into a brighter, better future. A future that would allow people to live their lives in peace, to live with or without dragons – all up to their choosing – and that would give more equality, more justice and more safety to the realm. And Courfeyrac would follow him for he hoped that the future Enjolras wanted to built, could actually be build.

And Combeferre...

Courfeyrac looked over to him again while Combeferre was listening to Jehan who showed him a new sonnet in the book he had read before going to interrupt Enjolras and Grantaire. Combeferre was smiling lightly and Courfeyrac knew that he was stupid for feeling the sting of jealousy but it was there nevertheless. Combeferre... He didn't know how important this was to Combeferre or how serious this thing they had was for him but Courfeyrac was willing to find out, to try what they had, what they wanted.

“All right, you fuckheads!”

Courfeyrac looked over his shoulder to find Grantaire storm into the cave, dragging his shirt over his head while Enjolras followed, a little dishevelled and red-faced. He seemed embarrassed and not sure what to do while Grantaire glared at them in turns and added: “This better be better than having self-indulgent, sweet after-dinner-sex or I'm going to become a mass-murderer.”

“Come on, R!”, reprimanded Joly but could not keep the smile off his face while Cosette made retching noises that got her a warning glance from Enjolras, “This is Andromeda's big evening. And Courfeyrac's as well!”

“That remains to be seen.”, acknowledged Éponine while Courfeyrac felt everyone turn towards him.

“And... now?”, asked Courfeyrac a little insecure and tightened his grip around the bowl.

“You best start with getting up and get some space between yourself and any flammable substances... including us.”, grinned Bahorel and motioned towards the space between the counsel tables and the sofas. Plain rock, nothing else. Should be the safest place, hoped Courfeyrac.

“All right...”, he said and got up, balancing the bowl on one hand while Andromeda clawed herself carefully into his shirt, so much heavier than she had been the day they had gotten her from the cave.

“Good...”, said Bousset and got up, stepping around the coffee tables to direct Courfeyrac a little while the others settled down in the sofas, armchairs and cushions, all craning their necks to have the best view.

“And now sit down. It might take a while until she breathes fire.”, directed Bousset and missed the edge of the coffee table he had intended to sit on, instead collapsing on the ground while Lucky watched him seemingly horrified from where she and Syrah had curled up on the ground.

Courfeyrac sat down, his eyes finding Combeferre's which were trying to look soothing and consoling all at once. Gulping, Courfeyrac put the bowl down and wound one arm around Andromeda to made her sit down on his crossed legs. She grabbed his fingers that surfaced from beneath her belly and purred a little while her eyes would not leave the bowl on the ground.

“And now just feed her. Don't give her all, though, that might be a touch too much.”, ordered Bousset and Courfeyrac reached over, taking the first scraps to feed the baby carefully. Andromeda was eager and gobbled four scraps in no time while the rebels were watching interested and expectant.

Courfeyrac's heartbeat was taking up speed. He was watching her devour the meat with the knowledge that she would soon be able to breath fire. She had puffed smoke at him countless times and Joly seemed so sure that she was his dragon, as Combeferre was.

Courfeyrac sighed and handed her another scrap. If Andromeda was really his companion, this would change everything. He would have no way of going back to the court, of going back to his post as First Hunter. And he did not want to go back, no matter what happened now. He would stay here, with the rebels, with his dragon. He would finally have a place to call home, a companion bound to him by more than just loyalty. And he would have a family... he would have Combeferre.

“That should be enough.”, cut Grantaire in after Courfeyrac had delivered the eighth scrap into Andromeda's wide open mouth, “Now start massaging her throat, it sometimes helps. Mothers do lick the pups there when they have brought the first meat with the protein.”

“And then she'll know what to do?”, asked Courfeyrac nervous and started running down his thumb on one side, his forefinger on the other side of her throat.

“Yep.”, said Bousset and leaned forward while Andromeda started to cough a little. Courfeyrac looked to Bousset who nodded eagerly while everyone seemed to lean forward a little more.

“Here it comes.”, giggled Joly and clawed his fingers into Marius' shoulder, leaning forward even more.

Courfeyrac looked back at Andromeda who was watching him now intently. Her pupils shifted a few times between round and slits, then she coughed again, smoke rising from her nostrils. While he kept up the massaging, Bousset said in a low, almost reverend voice: “Offer her your other hand. Careful now, she's... she's... about to breath.”

Courfeyrac's heart thundered in his chest and in his temples while he carefully raised his other hand, offering it towards Andromeda. The small dragon looked up at him once more, her eyes glinting with excitement while she filled her lungs with air, Courfeyrac feeling the brush of air down her throat under his fingers.

It was dead-silent in the cave while Andromeda filled herself up, Courfeyrac watching her wide-eyed. She started exhaling, a new, whistling sound mixed to the breathing and at first nothing happened. Then, the air that rushed over Courfeyrac's hand got warmer and suddenly flames shot out of her nostrils, licking over his skin and sleeve. Courfeyrac gasped and some of the others sprang to their feet.

Time seemed to slow down while the yellow tongues licked up Courfeyrac's hand. He was mesmerized, watching the scene with wonder, not really feeling the flames on his skin. While he heard someone clap in the background, his senses came back, the shock of seeing Andromeda breath fire ebbed away and the heat started increasing with a flash of pain up his arm.

Courfeyrac screamed and dropped Andromeda while his shirt caught fire. He leaped to his feet and kept screaming while Bahorel rushed to him, throwing his coat over his arm, tackling him against the table to keep him from running. Chaos ensued while Courfeyrac's world was drowned out by the searing, blinding pain of his burnt flesh. Tears were in his eyes while he shook all over, clasping the wrist of his burnt hand and clutching the hand to his chest.

He gradually got aware that Bahorel took away the coat and Combeferre and Feuilly were with him as well. Courfeyrac kept breathing, fighting down the wave of unconsciousness that was washing over him as a result of the pain still coursing through his organism. He didn't dare looking down at his hand, did not want to see what the fire had done to his skin and shirt, didn't want to face what that meant for him and Andromeda.

The first thing that got through to him finally was Joly's high-pitched voice, while he was stammering over and over again: “Oh god, I am so sorry! This is my fault, all my fault! I'm so sorry! But I was so sure. Oh god, Courfeyrac, I am so sorry!”

“Calm down, Joly.”, said Combeferre who sounded just a bit more pressed than usually.

“Yeah, Joly, calm down, you're not helping.”, acknowledged Bahorel carefully while he tried to guide Courfeyrac back to the armchair Feuilly had sat on. Courfeyrac followed slowly, still clutching his wrist while Combeferre would not leave his side.

When he finally sat, he was faced with Joly who had gotten his satchel from the counsel area and was sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

“Please, let me see your hand.”, begged Joly and Courfeyrac let only go of his own wrist because Combeferre sat down on the armrest next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Oh god...”, groaned Joly and carefully turned Courfeyrac's hand in his which was without a doubt severely burnt, “Oh my god, I'm so sorry.”

“Not your fault...”, said Courfeyrac pressed, his voice shaking from the effort not to cry about the pain in his hand when Joly started spreading ointment over his burnt skin to wrap it up in dressings.

“Yes it is.”, groaned Joly, working as fast and effective as he could with his own nerves so strained, “I was pressing everyone because I was so sure about you and Andromeda.”

“Where is she?”, asked Courfeyrac who felt worries bubble up in his chest when he remembered that he had dropped her in the process of getting up.

Combeferre answered him in a soft, murmuring voice that should be calming but did not quite work: “R and Bousset have taken her to the dragon cave. She's a little jazzed and confused as well. I think she really thought too that you two belong together...”

Hearing those words, Courfeyrac's throat went tight. The finality about his burnt skin slowly sunk in and Courfeyrac acknowledged that Andromeda did not belong to him. That tiny baby that he had learned to care about so much was not his, did not belong to him. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths.

He could have been like them. He could have had a dragon, he could have had a reason to stay, to fight, to show and convince the others that he really was one of them. But Andromeda was not his. He had no dragon. He was the First Hunter, he was hunting dragons, why should he get the chance to learn even more about them? Why should he find his other missing half after giving the orders to kill so many other dragons?

Courfeyrac struggled to his feet and swayed a little before Joly caught his lower arm and Combeferre's hands on his waist steadied him. His head spun and the pain clawed up into his shoulder, making his head ache and his throat go tight. Courfeyrac was not sure if that was the pain or the tears burning behind his eyes though.

“Where are you going?”, asked Joly concerned and stared up at him, unwilling to let go off him while he still seemed to feel responsible for what had happened.

“I... sorry, Joly... I need to get... Sorry.”, stuttered Courfeyrac and pushed past him, even ignoring Combeferre who called his name softly. He needed to get away from them, from the concerned glances, from the sorrowful sighs and from the compassionate gestures towards him. Courfeyrac could not stand that right now.

His hand was roaring with pain and even the small scratches on his chest and the wound on his calf seemed to wake up and pulse with a dull memory of pain as well. Courfeyrac bit back the tears and stalked towards Grantaire's room where he intended to hide while sorting through his thoughts and feelings.

 

:<∙>:

 

“Hello, you...”

Courfeyrac raised his head out of his palm and looked towards the door. Combeferre had stuck his head in and watched him nervous, his face pale and his eyebrows narrowed in concern.

“Hullo...”

“Can I come in?”

“Of course...”

Combeferre pushed the door open and entered Grantaire's room, holding a big cup in one hand. He looked over to Courfeyrac, concern and worries showing in his eyes while Courfeyrac moved forward to sit on the edge of the bed.

He had curled up in the corner of the bed, his legs drawn up to his chest, his burnt hand cradled in his lap, his other elbow resting on his knee while he had placed his forehead in his palm. It was a position Courfeyrac always took when he felt vulnerable, alone and desperate. It had been the position he had taken in the first few hours in the tiny chamber next to Marius' chambers when he had been assigned as his whipping boy as a child. It had been the position he had taken after he had killed his first dragon... after he had watched the first execution of a human.

“Musichetta and Joly send me.”, said Combeferre and carefully came towards the bed, sitting down at the foot end, holding the cup in both hands while his eyes flicked to Courfeyrac's hands from time to time, “They made this herbal tea, it should be good against the pain and aid the building of new skin.”

“Thanks...”, said Courfeyrac quietly and held out his good hand to take the cup from Combeferre who handed it to him tenderly.

“Are you in a lot of pain?”, asked Combeferre concerned, “I could get you some willow bark to chew, it usually helps great against pain. Bahorel gets stomach pains from it though and R gets as sick as a dog, so if you like, you can also have some St. John's wort which is a little more agreeable to the stomach.”

“Combeferre?”

“Yes? What is it? What do you need?”

“You to shut up...”

“Oh.”

Courfeyrac took the cup from his lips and had to smile despite his bad mood about the totally downcast face Combeferre made. Courfeyrac knew that he had been unreasonably harsh and should be rather thankful and delighted that Combeferre was worrying so much about him, but right now he just wanted to sit on his bed, drink his tea and... gosh, he _really_ wanted Combeferre to hold him right now.

“You know...”, murmured Courfeyrac and watched Combeferre look up worried again, his forehead wrinkled and his lips a sharp line, “There is actually something you _could_ do...”

“Really? What? I'll do anything! Shall I get you some willow bark?”, asked Combeferre eager and was already standing up to rush out when Courfeyrac put the empty cup to the bedside table and wrapped his good hand around Combeferre's wrist to make him stop. Combeferre turned around and looked concerned down at him while Courfeyrac smiled up rather tired.

“It sounds odd but...”, Courfeyrac confessed and felt a little blush on his cheeks while he licked his lips nervous, “Could you just... you know... stay and sit with me?”

The strained expression and the tense air fell off Combeferre in the blink of an eye and he relaxed his shoulders, a fond smile playing around his lips while he nodded.

“Of course I can.”, he said caring and sat down once more, taking Courfeyrac's good hand in his, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, “As long as you want.”

“That's good...”, sighed Courfeyrac and shuffled a little closer on the bed, dragging Combeferre's arm around his own shoulders while the taller man smiled fondly down at him, letting himself be dragged around a little until Courfeyrac fell into his side, sighing contently.

“Comfortable?”, asked Combeferre and pressed a kiss to Courfeyrac's hairline and Courfeyrac could not shake the feeling that Combeferre was inhaling particularly deeply to smell his hair.

He was smiling to himself while he nodded slowly, his face tugged against Combeferre's neck, his legs placed over Combeferre's thighs and Combeferre's arm stabilizing him while he leaned into him even more.

“Yes, thank you. You too?”, he murmured and nosed at Combeferre's neck who seemed to shiver just a little from it.

“Perfectly fine.”, hummed Combeferre and kissed his forehead, his hand brushing over Courfeyrac's back.

“How is Andromeda? I didn't injure her by dropping her, did I?”, asked Courfeyrac in a low voice, closing his eyes as Combeferre's other hand started caressing his knee carefully while Courfeyrac placed his burnt hand into his lap.

“No, she's fine... well, I mean not hurt.”, said Combeferre and sighed, “She's a little overtaxed with the situation. She's been calling for you for a while. We brought her to Ruby. She can be surprisingly motherly sometimes and she helped Andromeda calm down. Syrah is with them and they both try to distract her. She's thinking too much about what's happened... Like you.”

“I was dumb to think that she could be mine.”, grumbled Courfeyrac and pressed his face tighter to Combeferre's neck, taking in his earthy scent, the scent that was mixed with the smell of dry parchment, old books and fresh ink.

“No, you were not.”, contradicted Combeferre carefully and used his forefinger to raise Courfeyrac's face from his neck, looking him deep into the eyes, “Everyone could see and feel the bond you two have created. But sometimes mutual liking is not enough. And no one knows how exactly a human and their dragon are linked, so we couldn't know. You will find your dragon and Andromeda will find her partner, you'll see.”

“If you think so.”, murmured Courfeyrac and dropped his gaze, Combeferre's forefinger still resting under his chin.

“I firmly believe in it.”, said Combeferre forcefully and nodded to emphasize his statement.

Courfeyrac's eyes wandered up to Combeferre's eyes again and he was mesmerized. To have him so close, to be held by Combeferre after his thoughts had been whirling around and causing him the feeling that he was alone in the world, felt better than he could ever put into words. And Combeferre's finger under his chin seemed to scorch his skin, sent warm waves through his body and made a longing curl up in the pit of his stomach that felt good and worse than anything he had ever felt at the same time.

Combeferre's eyes were heavy lidded while he looked down at Courfeyrac, his mouth opening only a little to sigh softly, the air brushing over Courfeyrac's own lips like a tender caress. He straightened up only a little, bringing up his good hand to run two fingertips down from Combeferre's temple to his cheekbone.

Combeferre ducked in even more and sealed their lips together in a tender, almost shy little kiss that made Courfeyrac sigh heavily, his hand clutching the back of Combeferre's neck to draw him closer. Combeferre's arm tightened around his waist and drew him closer into his side, his other hand wandering up Courfeyrac's thigh, giving him the most pleasant chills of his life.

Courfeyrac could not stifle the little moan that escaped him when Combeferre's tongue softly ran along the form of Courfeyrac's lower lip. He shuffled even closer, intent on getting into Combeferre's lap to be even nearer to him while Combeferre took Courfeyrac's hand resting in his lap to entwine their fingers.

Courfeyrac's scream of pain echoed off the walls of the cave in a deafening way and Combeferre flinched back immediately, letting go off the burnt hand he had grasped in the heat of the moment in an instant. While Courfeyrac was seeing the world through tears, his hand thudding viciously, his heart racing – this time not in a good way – and a lump building in his throat, Combeferre stumbled off the bed, his glasses sitting crookedly on his nose, his face as white as a sheet and panic screaming in his eyes that were glassy from the shock.

“Oh god!”, chocked Combeferre out before he fled the room, leaving the door open and Courfeyrac trying to collect his senses after the shock of pain cursing through his veins.

“Courfeyrac!”

He looked up while Grantaire, Jehan and Marius all but burst into his room. If he had not been in pain, he would have laughed about their expressions, as if they were expecting to find him surrounded by enemies and pierced by millions of blades. Well, his cry could probably really have suggested something similar, but right now he was in no state of mind to put them to ease before they started rambling away.

“What happened?”, cried Marius and fell onto the bed next to him, taking in the tears in his eyes and his good hand clutching the wrist of the hurt once more, his jaws set and shoulders squared.

“Is it your hand? Do we need to get Joly?”, asked Jehan and was already half out of the door when Courfeyrac finally found his voice again.

“No, I'm fine. Don't bother him.”, ordered Courfeyrac and finally took a deep breath to stop his head from swimming. His lungs finally worked properly and he could see clear again.

“So if you're fine, why the bloody hell are you screaming your head off?”, asked Grantaire and held Syrah back who wanted to sniff at the cup that still rested on Courfeyrac's bedside table.

“And why was Combeferre running from here like there were hell hounds at his heels?”, asked Jehan and patted Marius' shoulder who still seemed to worry more than the other two.

“A gentleman does not boast...”, said Courfeyrac and found back to his humour after deciding to ignore the pain in his hand.

“My my, Courf”, grinned Grantaire and shook his head, “You're a real Casanova, aren't you?”

“Again, a gentleman does not boast...”, grinned Courfeyrac and winked at the young sceptic who barked an amused laugh.

“But I think Casanova wooed the people he wanted... not chased them out of his room by screaming his head off!?”, said Marius quietly and no one was really sure if it was a joke or a serious question.

“That was an... accident.”, confessed Courfeyrac and tousled his hair with his good hand, “We were kissing and Combeferre wanted to take my hand.”

“How unfortunate.”, sighed Jehan and leaned against the wall of the room while Grantaire shook his head grinning.

“Very... and now I think I've completely put him off...”, mused Courfeyrac and pinched the bridge of his nose violently to fight the embarrassed feeling nestling in his stomach.

“I don't think so...”, smiled Jehan softly and shrugged his shoulders, “You maybe gave him the fright of his life, but he'll not be put off by a little screaming. Just go and apologize. Or give him the opportunity to apologize, depending on what he needs.”

“I can't believe I'm discussing my relationship issues with you guys.”, groaned Courfeyrac whose embarrassment seemed to grow by the minute.

“And I can't believe two grown men can be so awkward around each other...”, grinned Grantaire sly.

“Don't throw stones if you're living in a glass house!”, reproached Jehan fondly and winked at Grantaire who raised a warning forefinger.

“Hey, we've worked through our issues and are completely and utterly happy. So I can judge as long as I want to, all right?”, he threatened Jehan though everyone could hear the laughter mingled into his voice.

“You guys...”, sighed Courfeyrac and got up, his ears still fuzzy from the pain and his sense of balance still not in the right place which did not escape the attention of the others judging from Marius' hand in his back and Jehan reaching out carefully for him. Courfeyrac cleared his throat and tried to be as forceful as possible as he said: “I appreciate your concerns and everything but I'd rather go to bed now.”

“But don't you think you should...”, started Jehan but was cut short by Grantaire who took his arm and waived at Marius to come with him as well.

“All right, boss, we're out of here. No answering back, Jehan. Courf had a long day and he should really go to bed. Imagine Joly finding out that we kept him up way after ten o'clock. He'll slaughter us...”, directed Grantaire and started shoving the other two towards the door, clicking his tongue so that Syrah followed him as well.

“Thanks...”, murmured Courfeyrac and slumped back onto the bed while Grantaire started closing the door.

“No worries...”, grinned Grantaire and once again Courfeyrac wondered how hard it must be for him to keep up his defensive and grumpy shields all the time while he was probably one of the most caring people Courfeyrac had ever met.

Groaning, Courfeyrac collapsed on his bed as soon as he heard doors closing close by. Immediate danger detected and eliminated. He rubbed his eyes with his good hand, the other resting on his belly, still pounding with a dull pain that sometimes shot up into his elbow whenever he moved his fingers under the dressings.

Courfeyrac's thoughts returned to the kiss and to Combeferre's scent and he had to smile despite himself. The question was why things always seemed to turn awkward as soon as he made any kind of advance towards Combeferre.

Combeferre had dodged Courfeyrac's first few approaches without any kind of showing if he liked him or not. Then he had left him sleeping in the dragon cave – a thing that still put Courfeyrac in a huff whenever he thought about it. The rude interruption by the lakeside had not been pleasant as well and meanwhile Courfeyrac was sure that Combeferre had acted so strange after he had taken his shirt off because he actually had felt quite attracted to Courfeyrac.

Grinning, Courfeyrac shook his head and thought back to the endearing flash of jealousy in Combeferre's eyes that had lead to their first kiss. He felt flattered when he thought back that Combeferre had been jealous simply because Jehan had leaned into him and Grantaire and blown smoke into his mouth. Did this mean that Combeferre had honest and deeper feelings for Courfeyrac than he wanted to show just yet?

The thought sent Courfeyrac's heart spiralling into his throat and his blood rushing into his face. The thought that Combeferre could... No, Courfeyrac did not want to built up his hopes too high, there had only been a few quick kisses, nothing more. This could be just a fling for Combeferre, an opportunity to have a few nice hours with an adorable and completely gorgeous human being like Courfeyrac was.

Courfeyrac reached up and tousled his hair a little nervous, his fingers catching in some knots that made him wince a little. He sighed deeply and pushed himself up into a sitting position, his eyes catching on the cup on his night stand. Biting down on his lower lip, Courfeyrac reasoned that he would not find any sleep any time soon. Not with this unresolved situation between him and Combeferre. He should check if he was all right. He should go and apologize for screaming his head off. He should go and see if Combeferre... oh, who was he kidding?

He wanted to be with Combeferre. He wanted to kiss him again, to feel him close, to look into those ridiculously gorgeous eyes while hearing Combeferre's low, rumbling voice. Courfeyrac acknowledged that he had never seen Combeferre's eyes not through his glasses and thought that a valid reason to go and see him at once. Of course he wouldn't tell him just that, but he would go nevertheless.

Leaving Grantaire's room, Courfeyrac made his way down the tunnel with the private quarters until he got to the back of the tunnel. Two doors, one to each side. Standing in the hallway a little lost, Courfeyrac wondered why he still did not know which room was Combeferre's. He had been staying here for three weeks – two mostly unconscious, that was true – and only knew that his was one room at the back. So he had two options: either bursting into one and finding Combeferre – hopefully in some state of undress – or intruding on Joly who would probably suffer a full-grown heart-attack.

Pressing one ear against the door to his right, he strained his ears to pick up any sound from the room within – without any success. Cursing silently, Courfeyrac was already turning to the other door to listen when a voice asked startled behind him: “Do you need something?”

It was Musichetta who stood behind him. She only wore a button-down that looked suspiciously like one of Bousset's, her legs shining in a mocha-tone in the dim light in the hallway, her hair tousled and one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Ehm...”, made Courfeyrac and felt a shy smile on his face – normally a little untypical for him, but Musichetta somehow had that effect on him. Her motherly and kind nature always made him feel like a stupid boy.

“You do know that you were pressing your ear to Joly's door, don't you?”, asked Musichetta and a movement around her neck caught Courfeyrac's eye. Marinaio yawned and flashed a row of bright teeth at him while Musichetta continued: “We're all staying at Bousset's tonight. If you need something from Joly... or if you want some tea...”

“No, thank you, Chetta. I'm actually fine.”, cut Courfeyrac her short and grinned once more, hesitating while she came towards him to enter Joly's room, still eyeing him curiously.

“Fine.”, she said while she retrieved what looked like Joly's pyjamas from a drawer by his bed, “I'm just getting something for Joly to sleep in. He gets nervous if there's nothing around that'll keep him warm. Not that he'll need much to wear tonight anyway and believe me when I say he won't get cold either...”

“OK, Chetta, I think you safe the delicate details for tomorrow and get back to your boys or they'll start without you.”, grinned Courfeyrac while Musichetta came out again, closed the door and turned to him.

She smiled brightly, took his good hand and squeezed it while she rose to her tiptoes. Carefully she placed a chaste peck onto his cheek and whispered into his ear: “Have a good night, Courf. Combeferre's a brilliant guy.”

“I know...”, smiled Courfeyrac and watched her wink at him before disappearing down the hallway, Marinaio giving him a curious stare over Musichetta's shoulder while they vanished around a bend in the tunnel.

When Musichetta was gone, Courfeyrac turned to the other door and took a deep breath before knocking softly with one knuckle. He heard something from within but was not sure what it had been. So he decided to do the obvious thing: check what it had been, of course. Slowly he turned the handle and pushed the door open to stick his head through the gap.

The room was nearly dark safe one light on the wall just above the head of the bed. Combeferre was sitting on his bed, back to the wall, one knee drawn up, his book resting against his thigh. He wore loose pants from some sort of wool while his upper body was completely bare. He looked up when Courfeyrac opened the door, finding the intruder stare wide eyed at him.

“Courfeyrac...”, he murmured surprised and put his book away after neatly putting a marker between the pages.

“Hey, sorry for ambushing you!”, apologised Courfeyrac with the widest grin he could manage, still remaining in the gap of the door, “I just wanted to check on you, see if you're doing well.”

“Yes, yes of course.”, said Combeferre hurriedly and got up, stepping towards the door to open it fully, “I am perfectly fine. I was just... I didn't know if you... I felt like going was the best thing after what I did.”

“What you _did_?”, asked Courfeyrac with laughter mingled into his voice, “So you mean kissing like a demigod is worth fleeing from me?”

Combeferre made a face between suppressing laughter and the urge to strangle Courfeyrac before settling for a small head-shake and an annoyed huff through the nose.

“I hurt you.”, he said in a flat voice and crossed his arms over his bare chest, a decision that made thinking for Courfeyrac hard for a few moments because damn... the movement of Combeferre's muscles under his dark skin was enough to make Courfeyrac's mouth go dry.

“And I screamed into your mouth, let's say we're even.”, grinned Courfeyrac and slumped down on Combeferre's bed, patting the mattress next to him with his bandaged hand.

Combeferre sighed once more, shook his head and sat down next to him, murmuring: “You are unbelievable.”

“Some say so, yes.”, grinned Courfeyrac and bumped his shoulder against Combeferre's, “But they've enjoyed much more of me than just my gorgeous singing voice.”

This time, Combeferre laughed deep in his throat and reached out for his good hand, threading their fingers together slowly.

“See, we're getting better at this!”, smiled Courfeyrac and leaned into Combeferre's side again, bringing his lips up to Combeferre's ear to whisper: “I couldn't stop thinking about picking up where we left off.”

“I'll hurt you again.”, warned Combeferre but the way his breath got caught in his throat was reward enough for Courfeyrac who smiled against Combeferre's ear.

“I'll make sure that doesn't happen.”, he promised and ran his lips down the shell of Combeferre's ear, coaxing a shiver out of the other man.

“And how will you do that?”, whispered Combeferre back a little rough-voiced, turning his head to look at Courfeyrac again, his eyes even darker than usually, heavy lidded and absolutely enticing.

Courfeyrac smiled and reached up with his bandaged hand. Clumsily he took Combeferre's glasses off his nose and put them onto the stool next to the bed that served as a bedside table. He turned back to Combeferre and raised his burnt hand into the air, arm spread out straight above his head, a cheeky grin appearing on his face.

“Just like that.”, he said, smiling still.

“Seriously?”, asked Combeferre and looked incredulous, “You'll keep that hand up?”

“I will. The whole time. No matter what you'll... do to me.”, grinned Courfeyrac challenging and raised his chin in a determined way.

Combeferre started smiling wider and wider while he raised his other hand, running his fingertips down the inner side of Courfeyrac's raised arm, hoping to tickle Courfeyrac into surrender, but he merely managed to raise goosebumps on Courfeyrac's skin. But still the arm remained in the air, the bandaged hand out of reach for Combeferre.

“Challenge accepted.”, breathed Combeferre and put his hand against Courfeyrac's jaw, ducking in to kiss him again. But this time, the kiss was different than the ones they had shared.

Combeferre was insistent, urgent, nearly hungry. His fingers around Courfeyrac's tightened as he pulled him closer, his hand on Courfeyrac's jaw wandering up into Courfeyrac's curls to grab tightly, tilting his head to the side to align their lips in a tighter way.

Courfeyrac moaned surprised and delighted into the kiss, fuelling Combeferre even more. He let go of Courfeyrac's hand and pushed his free hand up under Courfeyrac's shirt, making his kissing-partner suck in a hissing breath while breaking from the kiss.

“Sorry!”, gasped Combeferre and drew his hand back, staring shocked at Courfeyrac.

“No!”, breathed Courfeyrac and leaned forward to place a quick, sloppy, open mouthed kiss to Combeferre's lips, “No, no, no. Don't be. It was nice! I... I want...”

Combeferre groaned in the back of his throat and surged forward again, pressing Courfeyrac into the mattress while he lay down alongside him. Courfeyrac's hand was still held out over his head, now resting against Combeferre's pillow.

And for the first time since he was doing this, Courfeyrac found himself in the more passive role, the role he had usually avoided to be in not to loose control over himself. But here, with Combeferre, Courfeyrac let go off everything and followed Combeferre's lead.

Combeferre tilted his head and pushed his tongue through Courfeyrac's already swollen lips, the stubble on his chin scratching Courfeyrac's skin while he moved his hand under Courfeyrac's shirt again. Calloused fingertips ran up over Courfeyrac's ribs while Combeferre's teeth caught Courfeyrac's lower lip to tug gently.

Courfeyrac squirmed under Combeferre's attention and arched his back to push up against the hand on his skin. Combeferre moved away from his mouth and kissed along his jaw to his neck, nibbling, sucking and licking on the spot close to Courfeyrac's ear that sent thrills of longing down his spine.

While Courfeyrac's hand clawed into the muscles in Combeferre's lower back, sighs of pleasure and longing escaping him with every breath, Combeferre's mouth on his neck seemed to drive him crazy. Combeferre's hand rested for a moment over the hard pounding of his heart and Courfeyrac felt him smile against his skin before sucking hard.

“Oh god...”, moaned Courfeyrac and let go off Combeferre's back in favour of grabbing the hair at the nape of Combeferre's neck. With a plopping sound Combeferre took his lips from Courfeyrac's neck and whispered into his ear: “I don't want to go too far. Tell me if I do.”

“Too far?”, breathed Courfeyrac and was shocked a little how high-pitched and needy his voice sounded already, “Not far enough! Please, Combeferre!”

“What do you want?”, asked Combeferre, his voice so deep that Courfeyrac felt it vibrate against the tender skin of his neck.

“More... please, more...”, he panted and turned his head to catch Combeferre's lips in a demanding, desperate kiss.

Combeferre hummed against his lips and shared the kiss until they broke away panting. Combeferre's hand came up and cupped Courfeyrac's jaw, making the man pinned into the mattress looking up at him through hooded eyes.

Combeferre was smiling at him smugly and brushed his thumb along the curve of Courfeyrac's lower lip. Courfeyrac's tongue shot out and licked the tip of it and Combeferre stilled. Looking up, Courfeyrac saw him watch his thumb on Courfeyrac's lip intently, almost mesmerized.

With a slow movement of his head forward, Courfeyrac sucked Combeferre's thumb into his mouth and ran his tongue along the calloused skin. Combeferre's lips parted and a low moan wavered through the silence of the room while his eyes stared transfixed at Courfeyrac's lips.

Courfeyrac lifted his injured hand from the pillow over his head and ran his bandaged fingers down Combeferre's side while the other man seemed to shiver from just watching him suck at his finger.

“God, your mouth...”, breathed Combeferre and surged down, drawing his hand away in favour of kissing Courfeyrac nearly senseless.

Courfeyrac had kissed many people in his time at court – men and women alike. He had kissed virgins, he had kissed women with the worst of reputations, he had kissed chaste scholars, he had kissed coquette royal girls and frivolous young knights. He had always been complimented for his kissing and he had had quite a high opinion of himself concerning that topic.

But right now, right there, with Combeferre's lips pressed to his, the insistent pressure of Combeferre's tongue against his, Combeferre's teeth grazing time and again ever so slightly against the sensitive skin of his mouth, Courfeyrac thought that he had never been truly kissed before.

Combeferre's hand that did not rest on his jaw was starting to tug at the ties on the neckline of his shirt and Courfeyrac broke away to watch him intently. His eyes feverish, his hands perfectly still tough, Combeferre undid the tying and looked back to Courfeyrac's eyes as if to get his approval. Courfeyrac nodded eagerly and pushed against Combeferre's shoulders to make him sit up on his heels.

Obliging, Combeferre sat back and watched Courfeyrac drag the shirt rather impatient over his head – which resulted in a bit of awkward wriggling and tossing and turning for Courfeyrac could only use one of his hands. Still tangled in his clothing, Courfeyrac heard Combeferre chuckle. In an attempt to make his endeavour successful, Courfeyrac lost his balance and collapsed back into the sheets, groaning in desperation.

When he felt Combeferre's lips on his lower stomach, tracing up the fine trail of hair that lead from the waistband of his trousers up to his navel, Courfeyrac moaned with the sensation and ceased with his fruitless struggle.

“You're too eager...”, breathed Combeferre against the skin of his waist and placed a scorching kiss there while Courfeyrac arched up against him.

When he felt Combeferre draw back, his senses came slowly back to him and he breathed hard against the fabric of his shirt, mumbling a little in a huff: “Can you blame me?!”

“No...”, mumbled Combeferre and Courfeyrac felt his fingers dance up Courfeyrac's sides, wrapping around the hem of his shirt and finally freeing him from the accursed piece of clothing.

Courfeyrac blinked up at Combeferre who lay sideways next to him, tossing the shirt over his shoulder before looking back down at the other man, his eyes scanning every now uncovered inch of Courfeyrac's body hungrily before the light in his eyes changed and he looked up at Courfeyrac again.

Courfeyrac turned his head and Combeferre rewarded the movement with a long, fond, intoxicating kiss that had Courfeyrac's heart pounding once more. Combeferre wound his fingers into Courfeyrac's hair and tugged a little, making the other man mewl against his lips.

Breaking away from the kiss, Combeferre murmured against Courfeyrac's lips, his breathing still hot against his skin: “You are gorgeous.”

“Says the demigod himself...”, smiled Courfeyrac and placed a quick kiss on Combeferre's lips before reconsidering and murmuring: “No, scratch the demi... you _are_ a god. Speaking of which... weren't we talking of Heracles and Hylas some time ago? I would really like to go back to that topic right now...”

“Technically, Heracles _is_ a demigod...”, murmured Combeferre, his fingers caressing Courfeyrac's head lightly while he smiled down at him.

“Oh my god, shut up and kiss me again!”, groaned Courfeyrac about Combeferre's inability to ignore a wrong remark about mythology even during foreplay and drew Combeferre down by his neck to kiss him again.

Combeferre smiled into the kiss and moved about until he could wrap one leg around Courfeyrac's, pressing his crotch against latter's hip. Courfeyrac felt the building bulge in Combeferre's trousers and moaned about the thought, Combeferre's free hand wandering over his torso, caressing, stroking, massaging lightly until Courfeyrac was breathless.

Combeferre's kisses moved away from Courfeyrac's lips, down his neck and across to his collarbones where he started sucking and nibbling carefully. Courfeyrac panted with opened lips and arched up into every touch, feeling a ball of longing like he had never known it curl up in his guts.

Combeferre's other hand meanwhile ran up and down Courfeyrac's thigh while his lips moved on to one of Courfeyrac's nipples. He was gentle, licking, nibbling, taking it between his teeth and tugging ever so slightly until Courfeyrac was moaning Combeferre's name loud enough to be heard in the hallway.

Combeferre pushed himself up and straddled Courfeyrac, drawing a long, deep moan from Courfeyrac while his eyes shot open to see what Combeferre was doing. The other man sat above him, his eyes dark, pupils blown wide by the passion cursing through his veins and his lips red from showering Courfeyrac with affection.

Slowly, Combeferre started rolling his hips on top of Courfeyrac who arched off the bed, his hands shooting to Combeferre's thighs to grab him there. For purchase, for control, for an anchor, Courfeyrac did not know and couldn't care less because he was feeling like bursting any minute while it still wasn't _enough_.

“Combeferre... _ah_... please...”, he moaned desperately and thrust up into the rolling of Combeferre's hips, drawing a hissing breath out of the other man. Mesmerized Courfeyrac watched Combeferre drop his hands to the tying of his own trousers, undoing the laces with a maddening slowness that had Courfeyrac watching transfixed.

The chuckle Combeferre gave a moment later made Courfeyrac look up again, finding Combeferre smile down smugly at him while he dropped his hands from unlacing his own trousers to the tying of Courfeyrac's. The feeling of Combeferre's hand on him made Courfeyrac whine low in his throat and thrust up once more while Combeferre still kept moving in that annoying, almost maddeningly teasing rhythm of his.

“From now on I'll pride myself with the ability to render you speechless...”, breathed Combeferre when he had undone the laces, slowly bending down to kiss at Courfeyrac's neck again.

“You're a... _ah_... _god_ , you're a tease. That's... _oh my_... _ah_... unfair.”, protested Courfeyrac weakly, his hands running up and down urgently on Combeferre's thighs while Combeferre slowly shuffled down until he was kneeling over Courfeyrac's knees, one of his hands running down Courfeyrac's chest, his stomach and slowly slid lower until he could palm Courfeyrac through his breeches.

Courfeyrac arched up and moaned, muffled by Combeferre's lips while latter kept up the maddening soft touches through the thin layer of fabric that had Courfeyrac's heart pounding in his throat and temples while he made small begging noises in his throat. Combeferre broke their kiss and defended himself against Courfeyrac's accusation by breathing: “I'm usually known to be very Combe-fair.”

“God, you're an _idiot_.”, groaned Courfeyrac who could not stop smiling despite the aching longing in his chest.

“Would you allow this idiot to take off your trousers?”, asked Combeferre against Courfeyrac's neck, his hand still lingering where it had wandered previously.

“Trousers... breeches... anything, just take them off!”, said Courfeyrac urgently and watched delighted how Combeferre got off him, hooking his fingers into Courfeyrac's waistband and ridding him of trousers and breeches in one smooth motion.

Tossing the garment away with one hand, the other running up the soft inside of Courfeyrac's right thigh, Combeferre kept shaking his head in wonder, his lips slowly coming down on Courfeyrac's knee to kiss upwards – still slowly and teasing.

“God, Combeferre!”, breathed Courfeyrac exasperated and wriggled around on the mattress, trying to press Combeferre to himself, seeking friction where it was desperately needed, “Please, will you... _ah_... will you get on with it?!”

“With what?”, asked Combeferre and his nose ran along the dip between Courfeyrac's thigh and stomach, his breath making Courfeyrac mewl desperately.

“I don't know!”, groaned Courfeyrac – a few octaves higher than usually – and grabbed a fistful of Combeferre's long hair, his fingers grazing up the shaved sides of Combeferre's head, “Anything, _please_!”

“Let me just... one moment...”, breathed Combeferre and Courfeyrac made the most despairing and pitiful sound the world had ever heard when he felt Combeferre crawl out of bed.

“Wait!”, he complained, pushing himself up on one elbow, “Where are you going? You cannot leave a man to himself after making him as desperate as I am right now.”

Combeferre chuckled, his trousers hanging dangerously low on his narrow waist while he opened a box stuffed into a narrow, open space in his bookcase. He took out a small, corked vial with what Courfeyrac hoped would be some sort of oil or other lubricant and tossed it over his shoulder towards Courfeyrac. Then he put the box back and turned around, his hands slowly running down his sides, giving Courfeyrac a good view of himself before pushing his trousers down.

Courfeyrac's jaw dropped and he sucked in a delighted and equally shocked breath. He had seen naked men before: smooth youths, tough warriors and trimmed courtiers but they all seemed to pale in comparison to Combeferre. He was magnificent to behold, his skin smooth, his muscles well toned and his proportions even mocking the laws of the golden section.

He was narrow at the hips and his shoulders were wide while his humble demeanour and his clothes usually hid the well toned six muscles of his stomach. Dropping his gaze even a little lower, Courfeyrac bit his lower lip. Combeferre was probably the largest man he had ever been with. The view of his already half-hard cock made Courfeyrac's heart pound even more and his inners cringe in excitement. In that moment, Combeferre seemed to Courfeyrac the embodiment of male beauty and he couldn't take his eyes off of him.

Combeferre watched him watching him for a moment, then Courfeyrac raised his eyes and held out a hand for him. Combeferre obliged without any hesitation and came back to the bed, grasping Courfeyrac's hand before climbing up and straddling him again. The contact of skin against skin and the sight of Combeferre's cock pressed flush against his was enough to have Courfeyrac pounding with need, his head swimming.

While Combeferre pinned their entwined hands down into the mattress and got back to the endeavour of trying to kiss Courfeyrac senseless, Courfeyrac's bandaged hand was groping around the mattress next to him where he had dropped the vial before. He eventually found it and picked it up, pressing it against Combeferre's chest.

“Please...”, he breathed and nipped at Combeferre's lower lip, “Either let go of my hand or do it yourself, but with those bandages I can't...”

Combeferre let go off Courfeyrac's good hand in an instant and watched him lift the vial to his lips to uncork the small bottle with his teeth. Combeferre moaned and Courfeyrac got the impression that Combeferre had a thing for his mouth. Deciding to use the knowledge cruelly against him, he rolled the cork between his lips for a few moment, his tongue darting out to lick them slightly. Combeferre stared.

Courfeyrac nudged carefully at Combeferre's butt with his knee and Combeferre seemed to awake from his stupor, ducking down to kiss Courfeyrac's neck, his collarbones and his chest while Courfeyrac slicked his good hand clumsily, creating a mess of oil on his own shoulder while his bandaged hand could not quite control the vial.

“Shit...”, he murmured while Combeferre had slid a hand up and down Courfeyrac's side. He looked up from his task at hand – namely caressing Courfeyrac's nipple with his lips – and smiled, ducking down again to tug softly.

Courfeyrac moaned and arched up, dropping the vial while his slicked hand moved down to where the pressure of Combeferre's cock against his stomach was making him ache to finally be touched. Before he could do something though, he looked up at Combeferre and caught his attention with a soft upwards nudge of his hips.

Combeferre looked up and found Courfeyrac raising an inquiring brow at him.

“Can I...? Is this all right for you?”, asked Courfeyrac in a whisper, suddenly a little nervous again after being passive about this the whole time.

Combeferre granted him a fond, longing smile and cupped his face with one hand, brushing his thumb over Courfeyrac's cheekbone a few times before bending down to kiss him softly. Breaking their kiss, he nodded and murmured under his breath: “More than all right...”

Courfeyrac reached down and wrapped his hand around both their cocks. Combeferre gave the most enticing, lustful moan Courfeyrac had ever heard in his whole life and Combeferre's head fell down to Courfeyrac's shoulder, his forehead cradled against Courfeyrac's skin while his hot breath swooped over him.

Slowly Courfeyrac started pumping his fist and Combeferre shuddered, his breath catching in his throat while he mumbled Courfeyrac's name. The thrill of hearing the needy shudder in Combeferre's normally so steady voice sent a flare of excitement right to Courfeyrac's own cock and he turned his head to mouth at Combeferre's jaw.

Combeferre moved around a little, propping himself up on both hands to the left and right of Courfeyrac, starting to roll his hips down into Courfeyrac's fist while he himself started thrusting up.

“Shit... Courfeyrac... I... oh _god_...”, panted Combeferre and rose above him, staring down at him.

Courfeyrac saw how his features tensed in arousal and delight, how he wrinkled his brows and pressed his lips into a tight line. Subconsciously, Courfeyrac licked his lips slowly which drew an almost desperate moan from Combeferre, making him thrust down even harder.

Courfeyrac moaned and felt the tightness of his own climax curl up in him. Combeferre's eyes were closed now and he dropped his head down to Courfeyrac's shoulder again. Courfeyrac turned his head and sucked gently at Combeferre's neck, making the other man shudder and moan again.

Combeferre straightened and pressed his forehead against Courfeyrac's, his eyes glowing and feverish, pupils blown wide, mouth hanging open in desperate pants. He was catching Courfeyrac's gaze and Courfeyrac felt a shiver ripple down his spine and add to the tightness in his lower abdomen.

“God, Courfeyrac!”, groaned Combeferre and closed his eyes, stuttering, “I am... You're so... I'm so... _please_... god!”

“Me too.”, panted Courfeyrac, not knowing what he was saying, just knowing that he understood Combeferre, understood how he felt, that all of this seemed too much and not enough at the same time. That he wished for relieve and at the same time for this moment to last forever.

Combeferre's arms were trembling while he still rolled down into Courfeyrac's fist, his shoulders tensing slowly while his eyes shot open and fixed Courfeyrac again. Courfeyrac tightened his grip carefully and Combeferre moaned brokenly, shuddering all over. Courfeyrac tipped his head up and licked his lips, seeing Combeferre's eyes flick to his mouth. Slowly he closed his lips around Combeferre's lower lip, tugging gently before running his tongue over the hot skin.

Combeferre whined and tensed all over, the movement of his hips stuttering to a stop while he spent hot and slick into Courfeyrac's fist. Courfeyrac was watching him while his eyes slowly opened and he leaned over on his left arm, taking his right away to sneak his hand down between their bodies, entwining Courfeyrac's fingers with his own, not letting him let go once of them and started jerking Courfeyrac off using both their hands.

Courfeyrac didn't last long, not with the intent, fond stare of Combeferre fixed to his, his forehead still pressed to Courfeyrac, his lips brushing softly every now and then. Groaning Combeferre's name, Courfeyrac spent a few strokes later and shuddered with the feeling of his hot cum coating both their hands.

Combeferre leaned down and kissed him – long, lingering, deeply. They seemed to share their air until finally Combeferre slid down from him, breaking their kiss and sitting up at the edge of the bed. He took a deep breath and pushed himself up, stalking over to his wardrobe where he produced a towel from one drawer. Wiping his hand slowly, he turned around to smile at Courfeyrac.

He had rolled onto this side, his head cradled in his arms, peaking out tiredly under his tousled curls, feeling warm and comfortable and kind of satisfyingly dull. He gave Combeferre a smug smile as well when he turned, watching him in all his afterglow high striding back to him slowly.

Combeferre sat back down on the bed, carefully wiping at Courfeyrac's stomach where oil and cum had produced a small mess. Then he held out a hand for Courfeyrac and raised an eyebrow, still smiling fondly. Courfeyrac stuck out his hand and Combeferre wiped the oil and cum off his hand and every single finger with a fond precision that made Courfeyrac smile even more.

After being done, Combeferre tossed the towel towards a small heap of clothing next to he door and turned back to Courfeyrac, threading his fingers through Courfeyrac's curls and carefully stroking his temple through the hair.

“You're beautiful...”, he breathed and Courfeyrac chuckled while he felt the blush creep up his neck.

He tried hiding his delight and slight embarrassment by saying rather coquettish: “Beautiful and terribly cold. Come back to bed, would you? Unless you want me to leave...”

“Unless you want me to cry, you should really stay.”, smiled Combeferre and slid into bed as well, Courfeyrac shuffling back on the mattress to make space for him.

Combeferre wrapped both arms around Courfeyrac and drew him close, their legs entangling carefully while Courfeyrac tugged his head under Combeferre's chin. Once more he felt Combeferre breath in the scent of his hair and smiled before pressing a chaste kiss to Combeferre's collarbone.

“I won, by the way...”, murmured Combeferre against his forehead.

Courfeyrac raised his head and looked inquiring at him, one eyebrow raised. When Combeferre just smiled wider than before, Courfeyrac grinned: “I didn't know that there was a price on coming first.”

Combeferre huffed a laugh through his nose and shook his head, kissing Courfeyrac's forehead fondly before murmuring: “You're really silly, sometimes. No, I meant your hand.”

“Oh, that!”, laughed Courfeyrac and raised his bandaged hand from where it hand been resting on Combeferre's hip, eyeing it critically, “Looks normal and didn't hurt once... In fact, it really feels fine now. Had I known that sleeping with you was a cure to my pain I'd dragged you with me right after playing human torch with Andromeda.”

Combeferre shook his head and laughed again, looking down incredulous afterwards. He carefully brushed a few stray curls out of Courfeyrac's eyes and mumbled: “You are the most endearing, enticing natterer I've ever met.”

“And you definitely are the most attractive, intelligent and gorgeous rebel I've ever met...”, said Courfeyrac and placed a kiss to Combeferre's nose before scolding fondly, “And now we should stop talking this cheesy nonsense or I might really fall irrevocably in love with you.”

Combeferre blinked rapidly but could not bite back the grin that spread over his face, while Courfeyrac asked himself again why his heart sometimes overpowered his brain and made his mouth speak the most embarrassing things imaginable. But as Combeferre did not seem to mind his frank remark, he settled for chuckling and kissing Combeferre quickly.

“Good night, Courfeyrac.”, murmured Combeferre and kissed Courfeyrac again, lingering, sweetly, caring. He reached up and flipped out the small, flickering lamp at the head of his bed, the inky darkness descending on them in an instant.

“G'night, Combeferre.”, breathed Courfeyrac and nestled deeper into Combeferre's embrace, feeling his warmth and the thumping of his heart against his cheek lulling him into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of this chapter was inspired by the absolutely amazing and hot as fuck fanart you can find [here](http://tragicfuckboydrawvert.tumblr.com/post/108535916201/les-amis-more-like-les-smoke-to-look-cool-and) . I also really liked the idea of R being a little shit and manipulating Enj in that way... So, that's that.
> 
> Otherwise I'm sorry I've taken so long, I had quite a bit of stress this weekend after working as an author's assistant at a book fair in my town. Hope you can forgive me :)


	5. Chapter 5

Courfeyrac and Combeferre were woken up the next morning in a rather unpleasant way. They were still rolled up in bed, hiding under the covers, Combeferre only drifting in and out of sleep while Courfeyrac was still snoring gently next to him when Combeferre got dimly aware of a lot of agitated voices on the hallway.

They started up when the door burst open and Jehan, Enjolras and Feuilly came barging in Combeferre's room.

“Ferre! Wake up!”

“Have you seen him?”

“He's gone!”

They caught themselves a few strides into the room, their eyes widening in surprise while Combeferre plucked his glasses off the stool and put them on while Courfeyrac groaned, collapsing into the pillow again and rubbing his face.

“Well, I guess he's not _really_ gone after all...”, grinned Feuilly and nudged Enjolras who still stared wide eyed at the scene in front of him.

“Aw, this is so perfect. You two are so endearing...”, sighed Jehan and pressed his hands to his lips in order to stop the burst of giggles that threatened to wash out of him.

“Enjolras, what is this ruckus all about?”, asked Combeferre as dignified as possible when wearing nothing but a pair of glasses while facing his commander and several of his friends.

“We were looking for Courfeyrac.”, said Enjolras a little flat, crossing his arms, “I wanted to talk to him about the evacuation. We couldn't find him and...”

“... and you thought that I had fled to warn the war band about you, right?”, asked Courfeyrac and sat up, crossing his legs to prop his elbows up on his knees.

“No.”, said Enjolras resolutely.

“Actually...”, started Jehan, still smiling while Enjolras turned on him and barked: “Prouvaire! Don't you think you should go and tell the others that we found him?”

“Right!”, giggled Jehan and turned to Feuilly, “I'll spread the good news as fast as I can. Don't take too long, Feuilly.”

With those words, he galloped out of the room, calling for Grantaire and Marius further down the corridor. Feuilly was watching the pair in bed intently, a knowing sparkle in his eyes while Enjolras still tried to stare them down. Combeferre was staring steadily back and Courfeyrac sensed that something was at least a little amiss so he cleared his throat.

“I'll be with you in a second, Enjolras. Just let me get dressed and I will be with you.”, he assured and started shuffling around, trying to push past Combeferre who would not move. Feuilly and Enjolras remained where they were as well and kept watching them. Courfeyrac groaned.

“All right, unless you want to watch me dress, Enjolras, you might as well leave. Trust me when I tell you that I have no problem _whatsoever_ with getting out of that bed stark naked. But I think you are not that kind of person who wants to see the crown jewels of another man after knowing him for barely more than three weeks. So unless you want a personal little presentation of my most precious belongings, you might as well leave _now_. I'll be right with you, promise.”, he said a little annoyed and watched Enjolras first pale, then blush, then he turned with a short nod and left.

Feuilly remained where he was, winking at Combeferre quickly before following Enjolras, closing the door while leaving. Courfeyrac turned to Combeferre who was shaking his head to himself, getting up to collect his clothes while Courfeyrac crawled out of bed as well.

“Impressive speech, by the way.”, he said a little tensed while Courfeyrac slipped on his shirt.

“What was this all about? Did I do something to offend Enjolras?”, asked Courfeyrac, suddenly worried that he might have snubbed Enjolras.

“No, you didn't.”, said Combeferre low and pulled up his usual trousers.

“So _you_ did?”, asked Courfeyrac and awkwardly tied his trousers one handed while his bandaged fingers were still no great help.

Combeferre sighed and stepped to him, pushing his hands away to help him tie his trousers. Courfeyrac smiled up at him and already had a flirtatious remark on his lips about liking Combeferre having his hands on Courfeyrac's crotch, when Combeferre clicked his tongue and muttered: “I might have. Enjolras does not appreciate it when I get... distracted or... irresponsible.”

“Irresponsible?”, asked Courfeyrac and watched Combeferre's face intently, “What's irresponsible about two grown men having sex? And a little distraction is sometimes not wrong either. He gets his distraction as well, as I understand it.”

“He does...”, sighed Combeferre and shook his head, turning around to look for his boots in the dim light of the room. Courfeyrac thought that Combeferre might say something else regarding the matter, but the other man remained silent. So Courfeyrac decided to speak again.

“I think he's just jealous.”, he said light-heartedly and shrugged his shoulders while Combeferre shot him an incredulous look.

“Enjolras? Jealous?”, he asked and pulled over his waistcoat, straightening the lapel after buttoning it, “I hardly think that's the case.”

“And why not?”, asked Courfeyrac, smiling cheekily while he wrapped his arms around Combeferre's neck, drawing him down so that he could whisper to him: “He's lost a shot at seducing the most sexy four-eyes to the most intelligent, good-looking, most charming, completely endearing...”

“Are you done?”, teased Combeferre and sealed their lips before Courfeyrac could go on further. They broke apart and Combeferre pushed a few loose strands out of Courfeyrac's face before muttering: “Go on, you promised him to be there in a minute. Don't dawdle around here.”

“But I like dawdling with you...”, sulked Courfeyrac but let go off Combeferre.

“You'll never let me have the last word, will you?”, he asked and shook his head fondly while Courfeyrac strode to the door.

His hand on the handle, the door already open, Courfeyrac turned around and shot Combeferre a cheeky grin accompanied by the word: “Never!”

Still the image of Combeferre's fond smile before his eyes, Courfeyrac all but skipped down the hallway, now completely empty. He didn't care that he didn't wear shoes, didn't care that his clothes were crumpled and didn't care that his hair was a messy mass of unruly curls. He couldn't care less about his appearance while his nerves were still buzzing from thinking about what last night had happened.

Appearing in the main cave, all heads turned to him. Enjolras, Feuilly and Bahorel stood at the map table, bent down, gazing towards him. Éponine, Cosette and Marius sat on a sofa, Prokno darting around them. Joly, Grantaire and Bousset sat at the table while Musichetta turned from the coffee maker to see who was coming. Jehan was sitting in an armchair facing the entrance like an old patriarch, his gaze intent and happy at the same time while he flashed a grin at Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac did not pay the whispers, the giggling or the quiet remarks any mind and went to Enjolras and the other two. Feuilly leaned to Bahorel and murmured something and Bahorel broke out into a barking laughter, tossing his head into his neck while Enjolras shot them a warning glance.

“Fearless Leader...”, grinned Courfeyrac and took a stand next to him, staring down on the map, “Tell me, what can I help you with?”

“We found a safe place to seek refuge.”, answered Feuilly instead.

“Well, actually Jehan did.”, corrected Bahorel and out of nowhere, Jehan appeared next to Courfeyrac and propped his elbow on Courfeyrac's shoulder, smiling smugly.

“Not so much found as remembered.”, said Jehan smiling and pointed to a corner of the map of the realm where another map had been placed, showing the desolate and deserted parts of the mountains that were not really belonging to this realm and neither to the next realm, “It is the cave I hid in when I first met Ophelia. She took me there after discovering me.”

“And it's safe?”, asked Courfeyrac and measured the distance between the search radius of the war band to the new hideaway. Cocking his head, he assumed that it would do, that even if they enlarged their radius, they would never reach them there. They should be safe.

“Completely.”, declared Jehan and nodded.

“Jehan told us you can only reach it through a narrow ravine.”, reported Feuilly and shot a quick glance at Enjolras who was still silent – very untypical for him, thought Courfeyrac.

“Maybe even too narrow for Parthenope or Lamia. That could really prove a problem.”, sighed Jehan and sat down on the corner of the table, scratching his right eyebrow in an attempt to remember and judge the dimensions correctly.

“We'll worry about that as soon as we get there.”, said Courfeyrac and patted Jehan's thigh, earning a sourly glance from Feuilly, “And you are sure no war band can reach there?”

“Absolutely.”, said Jehan firmly, “You can not reach it by foot. Well, at least not easily. They would need to cross the river, follow the ravine, then the river would block them again and unless they wanted to swim to the entrance of the cave, they could not reach it. There's only a very narrow path leading along the shore to the woods to the east, even further away from here. But I think they won't go there.”

“Sounds perfect to me... Enjolras?”, asked Courfeyrac and looked up at the blond man.

Enjolras had caught his lower lip between thumb and forefinger and kept staring at the map, deep in thought. When addressed, he looked up and at Courfeyrac. His blue eyes scrutinized him once more, then he sighed a little and said: “It's the best possibility we have. We couldn't come up with anything else and you say we are threatened here. So we do not really have any choice, do we?”

“We could still fight them and chase them off...”, acknowledged Bahorel and cracked his knuckles, grinning at Courfeyrac.

“No.”, said Courfeyrac at the same time as Enjolras and they shared a short glance that spoke more than words – they agreed and knew what the other was thinking. And for the first time he knew him, Enjolras left the talking to Courfeyrac.

“That is not a possibility.”, said Courfeyrac firmly, “You would maybe defeat about twenty before they could regroup. But then they would take you down, one by one. They are not the clumsy hunters you are used to. They are trained to be lethal. Bahorel, I really admire your bravery and your... eagerness. But this will only lead you to your death. This time, you cannot fight.”

“A shame...”, sighed Bahorel and wrapped an arm around Feuilly's waist, kissing his temple before leaving towards the kitchen.

“He's going to get himself killed someday.”, said Jehan in a tense voice and Feuilly rubbed his face for a moment with one hand, nodding sharply.

“So we leave as soon as we can, yes?”, asked Feuilly then and turned to Enjolras who shot a look at Courfeyrac and answered: “We better should.”

“What you _should_ do is stay until nightfall.”, advised Courfeyrac and got aware of Combeferre coming into the cave. He could suddenly not concentrate anymore and lost his train of thoughts, smiling over at him while Joly came towards Combeferre as fast as he could, talking to him in hushed voices and with a grin on his face. Combeferre grinned and answered but kept up his walk towards the conference table.

“Hey Casanova”, grinned Feuilly and snapped his fingers in front of Courfeyrac's face, “Focus.”

“Don't begrudge a man his happiness, Feuilly.”, smiled Courfeyrac but got back to the task at hand, his neck tingling with the feeling of Combeferre approaching, “Anyway, what I meant to say is that you can not leave now. They will have sentinels and they will see you. It is not safe.”

“And it is rather life-threatening to fly in the darkness.”, remarked Feuilly and bit his bottom lip, weighing the dangers against each other.

“But it could be done?”, asked Courfeyrac and took the cup of coffee that Bahorel handed to him.

“Anything can be done as long as we try it.”, said Combeferre and took his place at Enjolras' other side.

“Enjolras, it really is too dangerous to fly now.”, said Courfeyrac warning and caught the other man in an urgent gaze. Enjolras returned the gaze, waiting for Courfeyrac to go on: “They will see you. They will. I know some of the men they might have sent. There is no way of escaping them once they have seen you.”

“Are you aware that I am blindly trusting you right now?”, asked Enjolras and his voice was stern, almost sharp which made Courfeyrac straighten up a little indignantly.

“What do you mean to say?”, asked Courfeyrac and his gaze flew to Combeferre for a moment but returned to Enjolras right away.

“He means to say that we are still not sure whether or not you will sell us to your superiors or not.”, said Grantaire who showed up at the table at that moment, standing between Feuilly and Bahorel, watching Courfeyrac intently.

“Still so sceptic, Taire?”, asked Courfeyrac and cocked his head, “What made you think this time I might sell you out?”

“Come, come.”, said Combeferre and brazed himself against the table, “We are not here to accuse and mistrust again.”

“Though your judgement on this matter might be a little blurred, don't you think?”, asked Enjolras pointedly and did not look at Combeferre even as he turned to glare at him.

“I am really growing very tired about your suspicion.”, said Courfeyrac and put the cup down harder than he had intended but the disappointment curled hard in his guts and he felt his hands tremble, “I have done _nothing_ to give you a reason to mistrust me since I am here and still...”

“You are First Hunter of the realm.”, said Feuilly quiet and crossed his arms.

Courfeyrac threw his arms into the air and groaned: “Yes well, I am also a Sagittarius and a notorious lover of chocolate but do you see my rob a sweets shop with bow and arrow as soon as I set eyes on it?”

Jehan giggled while Bahorel rolled his eyes at him. Enjolras and the rest – all but Combeferre – were still watching him intently though and Courfeyrac turned away with the mutter: “I'm not taking any of this anymore.”

Before he could leave though, he found himself facing Cosette, Éponine and Musichetta who had come to join them at the table. Joly and Bousset were reluctantly abandoning their breakfast to join the counsel of war as well.

Éponine wrapped an arm around Courfeyrac's shoulders and turned him to face back to the table while Musichetta and Cosette took his other side. Courfeyrac was a little confused about this but kept silent while Cosette ran her gaze over the assembled men and said in a low voice: “You should really be ashamed of yourselves.”

“Oh please, Cosette, not _that_ again.”, groaned Grantaire and folded his arms on the table to drop his head into them, his position looking most uncomfortable.

“But she is right.”, said Musichetta and glared at Enjolras in particular, “Courfeyrac might be the epitome of the enemy, but he's done nothing but help us ever since he came here.”

“Without him, Combeferre and Parthenope would have been Parachute-feed.”, said Éponine and nodded gravely.

“He's cared so much and so well for Andromeda which definitely helped her to survive.”, added Musichetta and crossed her arms.

“And he told us all about the war band.”, said Cosette and glared at Grantaire, “Do you think he would have done that if he wanted to send us to our doom?”

“It might be a ruse to make us believe he's...”, started Grantaire but was shouted down by Éponine.

“Bloody hell, Taire! Be an optimist for _once_ and believe him. I for my part do!”, she yelled and made everyone jump, Bousset knocking Joly's coffee cup off the table, earning a warning glance from Lucky sitting at his feet.

Silence settled for a moment while several glaring-duels were taking place and others did not really know where to look. Courfeyrac reached up and tousled his hair, taking a deep breath before he said quietly but in an urgent tone: “Listen, everyone. I know that I was your enemy, I know that I had dragons killed and people arrested for living with their dragon. But I... I swear to you, I am not on that side anymore. I understand now. And I want to help you.”

Turning exclusively to Enjolras, trapping him in a forceful glance, he continued: “Enjolras, believe me, you are not safe here. And flying in broad daylight will make them see you. They will hunt you, you and your men... and women... you will never be safe again. Once they caught your scent, they will not to be shaken off ever again. I know those men, I know how they function. Believe me, flying tonight will be your only chance.”

Enjolras stared at him for a moment longer, still assessing and a little unsure. He cast a quick glance to Feuilly who raised his eyebrows, to Bahorel who drew down the corners of his mouth in an appreciative expression and finally to Combeferre who gave a slow, agreeing nod. Courfeyrac saw Enjolras sigh deeply, then the blond man turned to Courfeyrac again.

“I believe you... and I trust you in this, Courfeyrac. We will leave here tonight at nightfall. We will go where Jehan said and we will stay there as long as you deem it necessary.”, decided Enjolras and nodded to express his agreement.

Courfeyrac smiled wide at him and said: “You will not regret this, Enjolras. I will not disappoint you.”

“I hope so.”, said Enjolras and turned to everyone else then: “Listen, everyone. I want you to pack only the most basic and necessary things. We must travel lightly given that our dragons will have multiple riders this time. Combeferre and me will figure out the logistics while you pack. And please be also ready for a violent outcome for this night. And until the moment we leave, not one of you is to leave this mountain, understood?”

Everyone nodded and Joly asked Combeferre if he had a moment to go with him over their stocked herbs. Combeferre shot Enjolras a questioning glance and Enjolras nodded while everyone else bustled off. Courfeyrac was about to turn away to follow Combeferre and Joly when Enjolras said: “Courfeyrac, a word.”

Courfeyrac hesitated and sighed, turning to the leader of the rebels who was brazed against the table, studying the map before him. Courfeyrac returned under the curious stares of Jehan and Éponine who had bee trailing behind the others but Enjolras did not speak up until they were alone.

“Do you remember our conversation a few days ago?”, asked Enjolras, finally looking up from studying the map, his eyes glinting fierce.

“Ehm... maybe?!”, said Courfeyrac who was not really sure where this was going.

“The one about blunt spoons?”, prompted Enjolras and scrutinized Courfeyrac who groaned annoyed and rolled his eyes.

“Don't you think Combeferre is old enough to live without you playing big brother? Before you say it, I swear that I will not hurt him and that you do not have to track me down to hurt me as well, all right?”, he asked annoyed and shook his head.

“I heard about you, your reputation is famous in the realm.”, said Enjolras coolly.

“Now you're flattering me.”, said Courfeyrac sarcastically and watched Enjolras close his eyes to take a deep, calming breath.

“Listen...”, said Enjolras in a quiet voice that hid his anger only barely, “I know Combeferre nearly all my life and I know how passionate he can be about things that mean a lot to him. And I know how much he will suffer when things don't work out the way he wants them to. I just don't know what your intentions about him are.”

“My intentions?”, asked Courfeyrac incredulous and shook his head, staring a little confused at Enjolras, “What sort of _intentions_ do you think I have? What are you implying here? That I'm using him?”

Enjolras said nothing and dropped his gaze, shrugging his shoulders a little before muttering: “I don't mean to imply anything. I am just...”

“Worried?”, asked Courfeyrac and this time it was his time to scrutinize the blond man.

Enjolras sighed deeply and scrubbed his hand over his eyes a few moments before looking up at Courfeyrac. He looked incredibly young at that moment, sorrows in his eyes and concerns making his brows furrow. Courfeyrac understood that so much rested on his shoulders, that he felt the weight of his decisions heavier than on other days with the dangerous situation at hand. And he understood that Enjolras worried.

“I am not good at... this kind of thing.”, said Enjolras and waived his hand about in an uncertain way, “I am not... I have problems understanding sometimes how... what...”

“Enjolras.”, said Courfeyrac quietly and reached over to table, grabbing Enjolras' shoulder in an reassuring way, “Don't worry, I know what you mean. And I need you to understand that I am not... I am not using Combeferre for _anything_. And my intentions should be more obvious to you. Combeferre is... he's great and intelligent and incredibly attractive. So there's no cold calculation or any of that sort involved in this...”

“I am sorry.”, sighed Enjolras and straightened, “It's just that... I know Ferre for so long now and he... he's like a brother to me... Well, just... remember... blunt spoons.”

Courfeyrac snorted a laugh while Enjolras smiled a little at him too before setting off to get packing as well.

The morning and noon went buy in a busy bustle. Courfeyrac and Marius were out of work for the most time and were finally chased onto the sofa by Bahorel after they were more in the way than actually helping.

Marius sat down in one corner while Courfeyrac slumped onto the sofa, placing his legs over Marius' lap who just smiled fondly without minding. Both sighed and watched the rebels packing, running around, stuffing their belongings in saddle bags or backpacks and darting around the caves to find all the necessities.

“I feel really lazy.”, sighed Marius after watching Bahorel carry a large chest into the dragon cave.

“It's not like you've been really busy in the castle...”, grinned Courfeyrac and nudged Marius' stomach with his knee.

“Oh, shut up, you were lazier than me!”, snapped Marius good-heartedly and poked his thigh, making Courfeyrac laugh.

“I was. You should never have given me my own servants. Biggest mistake ever...”, sighed Courfeyrac and leaned his head back against the armrest, closing his eyes while wallowing in memories of the past night, a small smile appearing on his features.

“What are we going to do once the danger is over?”, asked Marius after a moment, sounding thoughtful all of a sudden, “Should I go back to the castle? Or do you think Enjolras would let me stay here? What will you do, by the way?”

Courfeyrac looked up from picking at his fingernail, catching the thoughtful glance on Marius' face before it disappeared into a questioning frown. He took in the uncertainty in Marius' eyes and the small furrow between his brows which always surfaced when Marius hoped to be guided by others. He had always had that tendency, to stick to Courfeyrac's decisions when it came to the close of things. And he was most likely also now counting on Courfeyrac to decide for him.

“I can't tell you if Enjolras would allow you to stay.”, sighed Courfeyrac, clearly not intending to tell Marius what to do this time, “You need to decide for yourself.”

“And what about you?”, insisted Marius, leaning forward a little and poking at Courfeyrac's calf, “Will you stay or will you go back to court?”

Courfeyrac dropped his gaze to his lap where his good fingers were fiddling with the hem of the dressings covering his burnt skin. He had not asked himself that question before. He had spent the past few days in utter happiness and contentment – with a few ups and downs of course – but he had been mainly happy living in this cavernous rebel base. The question never occurred to him.

But now that Marius had come up with it, he was for the first time finding himself guessing about the future. After the night he had spent with Combeferre, he was sure that there must be something more between them than bare, raw attraction. It was something else, something Courfeyrac had not known with anyone at court. For him, it was affection, maybe even more. And he was sure it was the same thing for Combeferre. How equal the level of affection for each other was, he did not know yet. He would have to wait and see how things developed.

But there was not only Combeferre. Courfeyrac had also grown to like many of the others more than he had ever liked his so called friends at court. All of them had found their place in his heart, even their dragons, those beasts he had always feared.

And his sense of justice had been stirred in the countless conversations in the last few days. The question why the scholars spread false information about the dragons was gnawing at him whenever he was thinking about the realm. Courfeyrac could not just forget what dragons actually were and how hunting and killing them hurt and wounded the people of the realm. By keeping the dragons down, the king prevented his subjects from truly becoming happy and that was a thing that went completely against Courfeyrac's believes.

“I think... if Enjolras lets me... I would really like to fight at their side.”, said Courfeyrac slowly, lifting his eyes to Marius again who nodded slowly.

“But don't you think we could move so much more from the castle? Maybe even talk with my grandfather?”, asked Marius, looking troubled.

“I really don't think that's a good idea considering that he has Javert and Champmatieu dripping poison into his ear about the dragons.”, mused Courfeyrac and tousled his hair slowly, thoughtfully.

“I don't think they're doing that on purpose.”, sighed Marius, “Maybe they don't know better?”

“Sometimes I don't know whether you're just really naïve or whether you're really trying your hardest to see the best in everyone.”, acknowledged Courfeyrac and shot Marius a quick smile.

Smiling back, Marius mused: “But just imagine grandfather would listen. We could change so much. And all of them”, he made an all encompassing gesture with his hand, “could return to the realm, living normal lives, like everyone else. Joly and Combeferre could even return to their professions and I bet that Grantaire and Bousset would make great teachers at the Academy.”

“I really don't think they would like that. Besides, could you image Grantaire in one of those hideous gowns they have to wear?”, laughed Courfeyrac.

“But I think Combeferre would be glad to work as a healer again.”, said Marius slowly and winked, “Besides, as First Hunter you could offer him a really great life.”

“Combeferre doesn't seem to be the sort of man who is particularly keen on having someone else providing for him.”, mused Courfeyrac and watched as Marinaio descended into his lap and curled up there, glaring intently at him until Courfeyrac started scratching his head.

“Have you asked him? Maybe he would like the comforts of your chambers.”, grinned Marius and winked cheeky.

“Are you telling me I should lock him into my tower like a damsel in distress?”, laughed Courfeyrac, his finger still trailing over the rough scales on Marinaio's head.

“Are you talking about medieval literature?”, asked Jehan all of a sudden and collapsed into the armchair across from them, “Because I just recently finished a really great novel about a damsel in distress who's been turned into a deer by her stepmother and has to be saved by the son of a German prince who even marries a dwarf queen on the quest and...”

“No, we aren't talking about literature.”, said Marius quickly in order to silence Jehan before he could hold an entire lecture on the topic, the metaphors and construction of the novel he had read.

“A shame, really.”, sighed Jehan and crossed his slender legs on the low coffee table in front of him, “But it is really good, you know. Way better than that tiresome _Eneide_ I've read recently.”

“Jehan.”, groaned Courfeyrac tiredly, watching him bring two fingers to his lips to press them there thoughtfully, cocking his head.

“Although _that_ was much better than that wicked _Chanson de Roland_ I read at the beginning of the year. Much too pious and way to less romance in that thing.”, mused Jehan, his eyes staring off into open space while a small smile played around his lips.

“All right...”, sighed Courfeyrac and pushed himself out of the sofa, stretching a little before saying to Marius, “I leave you to your medieval literature lecture now and see if I can find Combeferre.”

“Traitor...”, grinned Marius while Marinaio crawled into his lap, indignant about Courfeyrac leaving.

“Where are you going?”, asked Jehan and looked up disappointed. He had probably not even heard what Courfeyrac had just said.

“Looking for Combeferre.”, replied Courfeyrac, already walking backwards.

“But I thought we were talking about novels?!”, asked Jehan a little disappointed and Courfeyrac had to smile about the sad little pout so thoroughly Jehan that it made his chest swell with warmth.

“Ehm... you know what, Jehan? Why don't you take a book or two of those medieval writings with you to the hideaway and you show me them tonight?”, asked Courfeyrac and watched a wide smile spread over Jehan's face.

“We can do that!”, he rejoiced and clapped his hands once, “Oh, I already know what I'm going to take with me. You'll like them, you'll see.”

“Fine.”, smiled Courfeyrac and turned around to head for the dragon cave, meeting Feuilly in the middle of the tunnel where he was standing, broad shoulders squared and arms crossed over his chest.

“Hullo, Feuilly, have you seen Combeferre?”

“What did you promise him?”

“What? _Who_?”

“Jehan!”, said Feuilly a little short and gesticulated into the cave again, “What did you promise him?”

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow and took a quick look at Feuilly. He seemed tense and a little suspicious and also really jealous. He was scrutinizing Courfeyrac in turn and would not let him pass, as it seemed. Courfeyrac sighed.

“Listen, all of you really need to work on your jealousy-issues, that gets really tiresome, you know?”, he sighed and reached out to pat Feuilly's shoulder reassuring.

“What?”, barked Feuilly and blushed embarrassed, “What do you mean? I'm not... I am with _Bahorel_... I mean, I have no...”

“Breath, Feuilly, _geez_ , you're going to choke on your tongue if you're continuing like that.”, teased Courfeyrac and squeezed Feuilly's shoulder before he pushed past him to go. Thinking better of it, he turned to Feuilly again who was scratching the back of his neck thoughtfully, paying no mind to Courfeyrac anymore.

“Hey, Feuilly?”

“Yes?”

“It's no crime to like someone like Jehan although you are with someone like Bahorel. And I'm sure you would be enough for the both of them if you would just trust a little more in yourself.”

Feuilly stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes while his chin had dropped only a little. Courfeyrac smiled – thinking that most likely not one of his friends had ever spoken directly to Feuilly about the matter – and reached out again to pat Feuilly's upper arm.

“And you'd better hurry up with it as well.”, Courfeyrac went back to teasing, “Because Jehan is sexy as hell and if you don't, someone else might get him. And that would be a shame, wouldn't it?”

With those words Courfeyrac left towards the dragon cave, chuckling to himself while he heard Feuilly's uncertain footsteps depart. Shaking his head, he wondered how one man could love two other men so much and not trust in himself to be enough for the both of them.

Entering the dragon cave, he found Enjolras rummaging in a chest in a corner, all alone. Ruby and Parthenope were greeting him with a nod and a flap of wings. Enjolras looked up and smiled a little as Courfeyrac strolled over to pat Parthenope's snout while she pushed her head into his hand eagerly.

“Have you seen Combeferre?”, asked Courfeyrac while Enjolras dumped a whole leather armour onto the ground, diving back into the depths of the chest, continuing his search.

“Have you checked Joly's chamber?”, asked Enjolras without looking up again, “Last time I've seen them they were sorting through the herbs they want to take with them.”

“That's been ages ago and Joly and Musichetta are rummaging through the kitchen now.”, declared Courfeyrac and tousled his hair, wondering where Combeferre might have vanished to.

“Did it occur to you that he could be in his room?”, asked Enjolras and Courfeyrac was not sure if he was mocked or not. He shrugged his shoulders and sighed heavily. Enjolras looked up and raised an eyebrow, asking: “Are you all right?”

“Honestly, I'm feeling a little useless right now.”, declared Courfeyrac and tousled his hair again when Enjolras raised both eyebrows, “I mean, I don't have anything to pack, I am practically possession-less and everyone is so busy that I thought...”

“You distract Combeferre even more than you already do?”, asked Enjolras and once again, the tone of his voice and the quirk of his eyebrow made Courfeyrac wonder if he was serious or if Enjolras was making fun of him.

“Well... yes.”, grinned Courfeyrac and shrugged his shoulders once more, turning to leave the blond leader who straightened up then.

“Actually...”

“What?”, asked Courfeyrac and cocked his head at Enjolras who was looking intently at Courfeyrac now, surfaced from the chest with what looked like a one-handed short sword.

“If you really feel useless, I might have something for you to do.”, said Enjolras and the challenge was immanent in his voice.

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow at him and prompted: “I am listening...”

Enjolras smiled and nodded impressed, explaining: “We could not go out on patrol this morning as you said it would be too dangerous. But I need to know where the enemy is. There is a small plateau just beneath the opening of this cave. If I had someone to go up there and tell me where the war band is...”

“And how the hell should I get up there?”, asked Courfeyrac and pointed to the crack in the stone above them.

Enjolras smiled a little – maybe even cheeky – and motioned to the side of the cave, behind Jehan's workbench. Courfeyrac narrowed his eyes and saw what he was pointing to: into the dark stone of the mountain they had cut handles and steps that lead up the wall towards the opening.

“All right...”, said Courfeyrac even before he dropped his gaze to Enjolras again, “I'll go up there...”

“Perfect.”, smiled Enjolras and patted his back in a nearly fatherly way, then he suddenly hesitated. Courfeyrac looked over to him and Enjolras furrowed his brows, asking: “But do you think we could not tell Joly about that? If he hears I made you strain yourself, he might be a little unpleasant to live with in that small cave we're going to.”

Courfeyrac laughed and shook his head, patting Enjolras on the shoulder.

“I'll be as silent as a grave, Fearless Leader.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes but followed him to the handles and steps, watching him place his hands carefully in the ones he could reach with ease.

“Will it go?”, asked Enjolras.

“Of course.”, replied Courfeyrac over his shoulder and drew himself up the first step, actually surprised that his hand was not hurting as much as he had expected it would. He looked back at Enjolras and gave him a reassuring smile, drawing himself up the next step.

Enjolras nodded and left the cave while Courfeyrac worked his way up the wall, feeling very confident at the beginning. His mistake was to cast a glance down after he had made about half of the way up the wall. Blinking hastily, he flattened himself against the stone, his shoulders tensing and his thighs starting to shake. That was a deep drop beneath him.

Crawling up further, he made extra care to place his feet securely before letting go of the handles. The further up he went, the more his fingers started to cramp and the burn made itself felt with a furious stinging every time he grabbed the stone. Sweat started pouring down his back and his shoulders shook with the effort to hold himself against the stone.

After what seemed an eternity, Courfeyrac's fingers curled around the edge of the crack and – groaning with the effort – he drew himself out of the cave and lay face down on the stone, panting hard, eyes closed, his legs still dangling over the edge while he caught his breath.

Pushing himself up, he crawled away from the crack and rose to his very wobbly legs. Looking around, he found nothing but blinding sunlight and the rough rock of the mountain. So much for the plateau right beneath the crack. Shielding his eyes against the sun, Courfeyrac looked around and finally found what Enjolras had probably meant.

Something like a track lead away from the spot he was standing and disappeared around the side of the mountain. Taking a deep breath, Courfeyrac took the track and followed it to find it digging itself ever deeper into the mountainside, sometimes even having a handrail at the side of the drop.

Whistling under his breath, Courfeyrac followed the path, peeking down into the woods, always on the lookout for a trace of the war band. But there was no smoke in the sky, no suspicious movements in the trees far to the east, no traces whatsoever. Remembering the map, Courfeyrac turned to where he suspected they would be by now but found again no traces of them.

He was already thinking of going back and telling Enjolras that he had been unsuccessful, when a glint in the woods to his right caught his eye. He leaned on the handrail and squinted into the narrow valley. The glint turned out to be a plate or mirror or something along those lines in a tiny settlement at the foot of the mountains where Courfeyrac could make out people bustling about, minding their business.

Enjoying the quiet of the mountain, the fresh air tousling his curls and the sun on his face, Courfeyrac rested his lower arms onto the handrail and watched the idle scene for a few moments when something else in the village caught his eye: a white creature standing by the small brook running around one side of the village. First he had thought it to be a pretty big cow or a particularly ugly horse, but then he recognized what it was and gasped.

Romeo, Cosette's albino ember breather, stood there, drinking out of the brook while people were talking close by. Straining his eyes, he could not make out any faces or even clothing, the people remained brown blobs on the green grass. Nervous, Courfeyrac licked his lips, ran his hand through his hair and straightened up, intend on returning as fast as he could to the cave.

The orders had been simple: no one had to leave the cave, not one dragon should be seen outside the mountain until night fell. As it seemed now, Cosette did pay no mind to her brother's orders and had left all along, risking to be caught, even risking to give away their hiding place to the war band.

Courfeyrac's heart was racing in his chest while he hurried up all the way he had strolled down, racking his brains how on earth he could get Cosette back without Enjolras noticing her missing. If he could sneak out through the hidden passage and round the lake and the entire mountain before the evening without Cosette returning while he was gone, Enjolras would not notice her missing.

Who was he kidding? Enjolras would definitely notice it, no matter what Courfeyrac would do. Courfeyrac cursed under his breath while he nearly ran up the mountainside. Cosette was in big, big trouble.

Nearly at the crack again, Courfeyrac noticed a movement from the corner of his eye and turned his head. His blood froze and his heart seemed to stop. It had been noiseless and efficient in hunting him down and now he was facing spread out claws in a whirl of yellow scales and dangerous glinting teeth.

Diving to the ground, he felt the citron parachute shoot over his head, screeching furiously when it missed Courfeyrac only by a few inches. Struggling to his feet, Courfeyrac darted towards the crack, hoping against hope to flee the dragon on the kill. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that the dragon had turned and came towards him again. The red gash on its face seemed bright against the even brighter scales, burning anger in the dark eyes of the animal.

A sharp jolt went through Courfeyrac when he admitted that he was too slow, far too slow. He would never outrun the dragon. Without a weapon or even an armour, he would be defenceless. Courfeyrac turned against all intuition and raised his arms to protect his face when the claws came towards him again. He stumbled back another step and another, making his peace with the thought that soon he would be the lunch for a dragon and would never again see Combeferre when his foot stepped into thin air and he fell.

He saw the yellow dragon shoot over the opening of the cave, bright yellow against pale blue, the whistling of the air through the scales loud in his ears while the air rushing past him seemed to be silent. His limbs were flailing for purchase while his panicked heart seemed intent to leap out of his chest. While he fell, his head was surprisingly clear. From the options of being the lunch for a dragon and breaking his neck from a fall, Courfeyrac was sure that the latter was the better option.

The air rushed from his lungs when he collided with something too soft and too warm to be the stone floor. He was still falling, still sliding down and his hands searched for purchase. Finally holding onto something – the edge of a wing? – Courfeyrac understood what had happened.

He was no longer falling, instead he lay on Parthenope's back, clutching the edge of her wing while she tried to descend back to the ground although her wing was still bandaged, making her flight a little bumpy and uncontrolled. She was craning her neck to see on her back when Courfeyrac turned around and patted her shoulder, not able to say anything while his heart still raced like mad.

Parthenope landed and Courfeyrac rolled down her side, his knees weak and his hands shaking like mad. He was propping himself up on his own knees and panted, eyes closed, fighting back the urge to throw up, his nerves buzzing with adrenaline. He still felt like falling and had to tell himself that he was fine, that nothing had happened, that it had been a close shave but nothing more. Looking up to the crack, Courfeyrac expected to see yellow scales, but there was no citron parachute to be seen at the opening of the cave.

Parthenope had turned to him and nudged his shoulder with her snout while Lamia was snarling up at the crack and Ophelia had retreated to the darkest corner of the cave, staring up nervous as well. Swoboda came closer slowly and carefully, eyeing Courfeyrac critically.

Courfeyrac turned and scratched Parthenope's brow with jittery fingers, still not really calmed down. Looking into her dark, concerned eyes, he produced a nervous smile and leaned in to press his forehead to her head, breathing: “Thank you, Parthenope. I owe you!”

She made the humming-purring-grumbling sound and nudged his head with hers carefully, blinking reassuring. He stayed like that for a moment, then he straightened up and looked up into the open sky again. There was still no sign of the parachute and Courfeyrac wondered if it had just given up and left. He was sure that he couldn't tell Combeferre about that attack for he would start to worry his head off. Maybe he should just keep it for himself and not worry the others more than they were already worrying. At least, nothing had happened.

Like an electric shock, the memory of what had him made return to the cave shot through his body. He turned on his heels and jogged off into the main cave where he hoped to find Enjolras. He had to tell him and they had to work out a way to get Cosette back. Maybe they could send Prokno with a message for her or something. Silently cursing again, Courfeyrac wondered what had made Cosette ignore the orders that were meant to keep her safe.

Rounding a corner, Courfeyrac caught a glance into the main cave and stopped dead in his tracks.

“Cosette?!”, he blurted, making the young woman look up from where she had curled up against Marius' side on the sofa.

Almost all of the others had assembled around them, seemingly done with their packing. Combeferre, Bahorel and Enjolras were the only ones who were still packing books and papers spread out over the planning tables. But they looked up as well as the others when Courfeyrac stood gaping in the entrance to the cave. With one glance, Courfeyrac had made out who was missing.

“Yes?”, asked Cosette a little startled and Courfeyrac thought he heard a little panic raise in her voice, “Is something wrong, Courf?”

Courfeyrac opened his mouth and shut it again when he saw the plea in her eyes. And he understood. He did not know why, but he understood.

“What happened to you?”, asked Joly anxious at that moment and limped towards him, his brows narrowed and his eyes scanning him quickly.

Courfeyrac looked down at himself and saw what Joly meant: his trousers were tattered at the knees from climbing up the rough stonewall, the dressing around his hand was dirty and frayed and his other hand was dirty, his fingertips a little bloody here and there from scratching himself at the stone. There was no easy explanation to why he looked like this.

“I was out...”, he said pressed while Joly reached him and tugged at his sleeve to raise his not burnt hand towards him.

“Out?!”, barked Bahorel and straightened, “What do you mean – _out_? Didn't you say we were all to stay here till nightfall!?”

“It was by my command.”, said Enjolras and straightened up to his full height, silencing Bahorel with one short glance towards him.

“Enjolras?”, asked Combeferre suspiciously and in a low voice and fixed his dark eyes at the blond man who chose to ignore his lieutenant. He strode towards Courfeyrac and carefully shoved Joly out of the way who had started fussing over Courfeyrac immediately when he had seen the dried up scratches on his fingers and palm.

“So?”, he asked Courfeyrac in a low voice, crossing his arms and stepping in between Courfeyrac and the rest to block out their view.

Courfeyrac caught Cosette shake her head wildly with wide, warning eyes while Marius watched her surprised.

“Courfeyrac!”

Courfeyrac returned his attention to Enjolras who was looking down at him a little suspicious, his eyebrows pulled together in impatience while Joly's eyes flicked back and forth between them.

“Enjolras, what is going on?”, asked Combeferre and came around the table to step towards them, his eyes resting most of the time on Courfeyrac who felt panic rise in him.

“Did you see them?”, asked Enjolras pressing and glared at Courfeyrac.

“No, I didn't!”, snapped Courfeyrac and decided to act on what he felt was right in that moment, deciding to ignore everyone but Enjolras and give his account, fulfilling his mission like a good soldier would, “There was no trace of the war band whatsoever. But I did see Romeo in the small village at the foot of the mountain. I thought Cosette was with him, but obviously Éponine thought it was a good idea to ignore my... _your_ orders.”

Enjolras' nostrils flared from anger for a moment, then he took a deep breath and grabbed Courfeyrac's shoulder to give him a friendly little shake.

“Thank you, Courfeyrac. You've done me a great service.”, praised Enjolras and whirled around to Cosette.

“Before you get started...”, she said and rose with all the dignity of a queen from her seat next to Marius.

“Don't even _think_ about giving me a petty explanation about why  you let _her_ take _your_ dragon to disobey what I had clearly said this very morning!”, snapped Enjolras.

“She didn't do it on purpose.”, protested Cosette while everyone seemed to hold their breath.

“Not on...?”, barked Enjolras and was about to explode when Combeferre stepped to him and warned in a low voice: “Enjolras, she has her reasons, you know that very well.”

“But that does not justify to endanger herself, the dragon of another person and all of us as well. Not to mention the people in the village!”, snarled Enjolras although the immediate anger in his voice had disappeared a little.

“Don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same if it were Cosette.”, said Combeferre in a low voice and kept glancing steadily at Enjolras.

“What's going on?”, mumbled Courfeyrac towards Joly who had taken up the task of looking at his hand.

“Shush, just listen.”, he whispered back, not even raising his eyes from his task.

“That is different!”, said Enjolras in an icy voice and turned back to Cosette.

“It is not.”, said Combeferre and ventured even further, “Enjolras, I know you. You would have done the same. Try to understand her.”

Courfeyrac watched amazed how Enjolras closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. When he opened them again and gazed at Combeferre, the anger in his face was gone and replaced by a sullen kind of annoyance.

“If something happens to her or the dragon, if the war band finds her... I will not take the responsibility for that.”, said Enjolras pressed and Courfeyrac understood.

He knew why Enjolras had been so angry that she had left with his sister's dragon. Not because she disobeyed an immediate command or had taken the dragon of another person, but because he felt responsible as their leader. He would feel responsible because he had not paid better attention to his men and women, because he had not been able to keep them from eventual harm.

“And no one would want you to or blame you for it.”, reassured Combeferre and squeezed his shoulder in a soothing way.

Enjolras shot him a last, doubting glance and shook his head, returning to the map table where Grantaire joined him moments later, talking to him in a quiet voice while Enjolras pretended not to listen to anything around him but immersed himself into a map.

Combeferre turned and found Courfeyrac and Joly still standing where Enjolras had left them. Courfeyrac nearly jumped from seeing the hardly suppressed anger, confusion and disappointment shine behind the glasses of his spectacles while he strode towards them, glaring at Courfeyrac.

“What did you do?”, he asked and even Joly looked up surprised about the cold sound of Combeferre's voice.

“I've tried to help.”, answered Courfeyrac, smiling a little unsure at Combeferre while Joly dropped his hand.

“This looks worse than it probably is. Just let me...”, started Joly.

“Joly!”, snapped Combeferre and both Courfeyrac and Joly looked shocked about the harsh edge to his voice. He took a deep breath and his features and eyes softened in an instant while he asked: “Could you leave us for a moment? I'll take care of him, if you don't mind.”

“Ehm... no.”, said Joly and made a step back, “No problem... bye.”

Courfeyrac watched Joly limp towards the dinner table where Musichetta was filling liquids and dried up herbs into phials or little boxes, still watching them somewhat curious. Turning back to Combeferre, Courfeyrac remarked low: “You've been pretty nasty to him. He's meant no harm. Seriously, you should really work on your jealousy-issues!”

“Where have you been?”, asked Combeferre, choosing to ignore Courfeyrac's teasing and the worried undertone in his voice had Courfeyrac smile up lightly at him in an instant.

“Don't fret, all right?”, asked Courfeyrac and reached up to push Combeferre's glasses back up the bridge of his nose, concious that many sets of eyes were watching them, “Enjolras asked me to go check the situation and so I went. Nothing happened.”

“You climbed?”, asked Combeferre and his voice dropped even more in volume, a steep wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows, “You're injured, you shouldn't have done that.”

“I'm fine, seriously.”, chuckled Courfeyrac, “Did you not listen? I told you not to fret!”

“You're unbelievable...”, sighed Combeferre and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes with one hand while he groaned fatigued.

“Unbelievably attractive, handsome, intelligent, loveable, clever...”, grinned Courfeyrac and had Combeferre chuckle quietly while he put his glasses back on.

“Unbelievably exhausting, I'd say...”, he gave back with a fond smile.

“I know...”, grinned Courfeyrac slyly and rose to tiptoes to whisper against the side of Combeferre's neck, “You slept like a baby last night after I showed you how _very_ exhausting I can be!”

Combeferre shook his head and stepped away and Courfeyrac saw delighted how he blushed delicately before murmuring: “Come on, I'll see to your hand or Joly will be angry with me.”

Courfeyrac followed willingly and enjoyed the quiet attention he got from Combeferre while they sat at one end of the big dinner table, Combeferre cleaning the cuts and patching him up with plasters before changing the dressing on his burnt hand. He was fully immersed in his task and Courfeyrac watched with an adoring smile on his lips.

After a while, Bousset brought Andromeda over who seemed anxious to crawl up into Courfeyrac's lap and roll up there, pressing her head into his hand whenever he scratched her fondly, purring and cheeping at him while her big, yellow eyes were fixed sadly at him the whole time. Courfeyrac's heart cringed whenever she chirped pitifully.

“She's been a pain in the arse all night.”, sighed Bousset and propped himself up on the back of Combeferre's chair, “I had to bring her to R after Chetta and Joly came over to... well... discuss things!”

The sly smile on Bousset's face made Combeferre shake his head lightly and Courfeyrac grin up at him although he still could feel the regret and sadness in his heart that Andromeda's pitiful purring evoked in him.

“Discussing things, aha...”, he grinned and Bousset winked.

“Anyway”, sighed the bald man and scratched his neck, “She's really been beside herself. I think it threw her mightily off course that you weren't what we all thought you were. She's been so fond of you...”

“I know...”, sighed Courfeyrac and scratched Andromeda under the chin while she closed her eyes and pushed her chin deeper into his hand.

“She'll find her other half. As will Courfeyrac.”, said Combeferre quietly and started wrapping up Courfeyrac's hand again.

“I hope so...”, sighed Bousset and patted Andromeda's head, “She seems to be desperate to belong to someone like she thinks she has no place here until she really has found her other half.”

Courfeyrac's heart stuttered when Bousset summed up what he had been thinking all along and knitted his brows. He felt Combeferre's eyes on him but did not look up from patting Andromeda because he didn't want to see pity or sympathy in Combeferre's eyes just now. He didn't want Combeferre to like him just out of pity or sympathy. He couldn't bear that.

“But that is rubbish.”, said Combeferre fondly and reached over to pat Andromeda as well, his slender fingers brushing Courfeyrac's in the motion, “She shouldn't think that she's not...”

“Éponine!”

Enjolras' bark made them look up from their conversation. Éponine was striding into the cave, chin raised high into the air, one arm slung protective around a boy with shaggy, blond hair, a crooked grin and a black gap between his teeth. He was striding along with Éponine, the same surety, the same brittle pride in his steps as in Éponine's.

Éponine chose to ignore Enjolras who was coming towards her but strode towards the tunnel with the rooms, her arm still protectively around the boy.

“Taire!”, called the boy at that moment and freed himself from the arm of his fierce guard. He darted over to the sofa and flung himself at the young man with the dense black curls, starting a wrestling match that Grantaire seemed to share in with enthusiasm.

“Hey, squirt, how's things?”, asked Grantaire after he had wrestled the boy into a headlock to rub his knuckles over his scalp.

“Who's that?”, asked Courfeyrac curious and leaned closer to Combeferre who could not answer because Enjolras barked: “Éponine, do not _dare_ to ignore me!”

Éponine turned and Courfeyrac saw how Grantaire and the boy froze mid-motion. Éponine's face was settled, nearing grim, and she faced Enjolras with all the cool she could master. Enjolras was back to furious again and Courfeyrac knew that those two headstrong characters clashing would result in a storm beyond imagination.

“I would never, oh Fearless Leader. What can I do for you?”, asked Éponine and the cold tease in her voice made Enjolras' ears go flaming red while his nostrils flared again.

“Éponine, I'm warning you...”, he said pressed and everyone in the cave seemed to hold their breath.

“Why?”, she asked and anger seemed to flare in her voice now, “I've done nothing wrong.”

“You were in the village!”, boomed Enjolras, “You took another person's dragon and disobeyed my immediate orders by leaving the mountain. You've risked your own, Romeo's and all our safety. What would you've done if the war band had found you, hunted you down?”

“I was careful enough.”, said Éponine pressed and Courfeyrac saw her hands curl into fists and shake at her sides.

“Enjolras, nothing happened, maybe you should just let it go.”, proposed Grantaire who had come forward, the boy standing next to him, looking up rather warning at Enjolras.

“Keep out of this.”, snapped Enjolras and turned towards Éponine again, “You risked everything! And no matter how careful you were, the fact remains that you disobeyed my orders and I...”

“Would you have left Cosette in the village if you knew the warriors were close?”, blurted Éponine, her voice trembling now, “Don't tell me you would have let your sister be exposed to all and sundry if you were in my place! I couldn't just leave him there!”

“He would have been safer there than he's with us!”, snapped Enjolras back and pointed at the boy.

“Shut up, Goldilocks!”, ordered the boy and crossed his arms, “I'm happy that she got me. She's a way better sister than you ever could be. And my place is with her.”

Enjolras stared at the boy, unable to answer him and Courfeyrac thought that any second, steam would explode from his ears while his face was flushed a dark shade of red, his eyes blinking furiously while he finally growled: “I am not talking to you, Gavroche. You can't even start to understand the danger your sister put us in.”

“Sister?”, asked Courfeyrac who was shushed furiously by Joly who seemed intent on keeping them out of the fight.

“I do get that those soldiers are after you but I also know that _that_ one”, Gavroche pointed with utter surety to Courfeyrac who raised both eyebrows in wonder, “told you everything he knows and therefore you're out of danger.”

“Enjolras...”, said Combeferre and got up slowly, directing the gaze of his leader towards himself, “I get that you're mad. Éponine's actions were reckless and selfish and could have had the worst of consequences for all of us”, he shot a quick, warning glance at Éponine as she opened her mouth to protest, “but R is right. Nothing happened. And you should really try to understand her as well. Imagine it would have been Cosette in the village. Ask yourself what you would have done.”

Enjolras stared for a moment at Combeferre and Courfeyrac saw amazed how the fire of anger extinguished slowly and Enjolras shook his head. He turned slowly towards Éponine and trapped her in a bold glance before he said in a very low, warning voice: “Don't think that I'll just forget that. You're not to leave this mountain or the next hideaway without my permission or Combeferre's. You will not be allowed to fly a dragon without their partner accompanying you. And if I hear once again that you disobey me, I will draw the consequences.”

Éponine stared at Enjolras and Courfeyrac already worried that she would shoot back and challenge Enjolras but then she took a deep breath and gave a sharp nod before looking away. Enjolras nodded as well, turned on his heels and strode towards the dragon cave, ordering: “Feuilly, Bahorel, come with me!”

Feuilly struggled up from the cushion he had shared with Jehan and followed Enjolras and Bahorel in a hurry, leaving the rest of the rebels to greet Éponine and her brother.

“You've been so reckless!”, sighed Musichetta and hugged Éponine, “God, what could have happened to you. I'm happy you're save again.”

“It was very brave of you to get Gavroche!”, praised Jehan and tousled the hair of the blond boy with a fond smile.

“He should have lived with us all along, Enjolras is too careful.”, complained Bousset and winked at the boy and Éponine in turns.

“Why the hell did he know where I've been? How did he know about that?”, asked Éponine demanding after Grantaire had let her escape his bone-crushing hug.

“That would have been my fault.”, said Courfeyrac and got up, Andromeda clawing her tiny claws into his shirt and turning on his arm to watch the ongoings in the room with critical eyes.

“Yours?”, asked Éponine sharply and was with him in two strong steps, “What did you do? Did you run to him like a bloody old grass as soon as you found out I've been gone? Damn it, couldn't you have kept your mouth shut?”

“You were in danger.”, said Courfeyrac and kept her gaze with all the calm he could muster while Éponine started raging.

“I was not, not one moment of it! Do you think I'm just a careless girl not able to fend for herself out there? Did you think I needed a knight in shining armour to run to Enjolras and grass about me? Did you think you were helping?”, she screamed, pushing him a little.

“Ponine”, warned Grantaire who watched alarmed how the girl went into fighting-mode.

“Shut up, Taire, this doesn't concern you.”, she snapped and glared back at Courfeyrac momentarily.

“You were reckless.”, said Courfeyrac and felt anger boiling in his guts.

He knew what Éponine might have felt when hearing about the war band, knowing that her brother was out there alone and he could find it in himself to understand what had made her go, but he still knew in what grave danger she had been and wanted to make her see that his deeds were not out of ill-will towards her but out of concern.

“Oh good, you've learned to parrot everything Enjolras says, very good!”, snapped Éponine and shoved him again, “You're not just a coward, but also a servile loudmouth!”

“Éponine!”, said Cosette and stepped towards her warning but Courfeyrac just raised a hand to stop her.

“Let her.”, he said pensive, “She knows damn right that she's been wrong and seeks to blame someone else than her. She knows as well as I do that I acted right.”

“God, you're such a self-righteous, arrogant arsehole!”, barked Éponine, “But what else could I ever expect of the First Hunter of the realm?”

“He's the First Hunter?”, asked Gavroche and looked up at Grantaire with a questioning frown, “That ninny?”

“Watch your tongue.”, warned Courfeyrac whose patience was wearing thin.

“Can we not all calm down a bit, please?”, asked Marius quietly, intent to bring about peace between them again.

“So you're the bastard who's to blame for the smith's daughter going mad after her lark singer was killed in front of her eyes last summer?”, asked Gavroche and his young voice suddenly sounded so threatening and severe that Courfeyrac turned to him surprised.

“I...”, he stuttered but found no words to contradict him.

“She's only been eight, her dragon was four.”, said Gavroche and shook off Grantaire's hand on his shoulder, stepping towards Courfeyrac in a sudden blast of anger, “She's not spoken a word ever since that day and she's screaming her lungs out all night long if her mother isn't giving her a potion that makes her sleep. And that's your fault.”

Courfeyrac kept watching the boy who glared threatening up at him, in his young eyes so much hatred and disappointment that it was hard for Courfeyrac to hold his gaze. Gavroche seemed to turn more and more angry with Courfeyrac's silence stretch on, so he pushed him at last more violently than Éponine ever had and yelled: “Defend yourself!”

But before Courfeyrac could say one word in his defence, he felt Andromeda fill her lungs with as much air as possible and breath out. Horrified he watched the flames shoot out of her nostrils in his defence, wrapping around Gavroche's shoulders and head in one blazing ball of red light.

Éponine yelled and threw herself forward, Bousset caught her around the waist while their group dissolved into chaos for a moment, Courfeyrac's bandaged hand clasping Andromeda's snout to keep her from breathing fire further. What really happened just sank in a few seconds after Andromeda had attacked Gavroche.

The boy was not harmed, just stared wide eyed at the small dragon in Courfeyrac's arm who had stilled completely as well, staring back awe-struck. The others caught themselves after a few moments too, Bousset's arm still slung around Éponine's waist, Cosette still hiding her face in Marius' shirt, Musichetta, Joly and Grantaire just gaping open mouthed while Combeferre...

Courfeyrac got aware that Combeferre was the only one not staring at the boy in front of him but at Courfeyrac. His face was sober and composed although is eyes seemed a turmoil of feelings that seemed all directed at Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac in turns was not able to keep that gaze, that concerned, disappointed, pitiful look that sparkled behind his glasses.

“Oh my god...”, breathed Joly finally and made a step towards the boy who was still staring transfixed at the dragon in front of him.

“Gav, are you all right?”, asked Éponine concerned and finally succeeded in shaking off Bousset's vice-like grip.

Gavroche could just nod, then he slowly extended his hands towards Andromeda who started struggling in Courfeyrac's arms, intent on getting to the boy as soon as possible without paying Courfeyrac a second thought.

With a heavy heart and a lot of disappointment, Courfeyrac carefully handed Andromeda over to Gavroche where the moth-wing-baby started sniffing interested at the boy's hair while he in turn turned seeking for help or advice to his sister and Grantaire.

“Does that mean she's...”, he started and looked a little insecure at his sister.

“She's your significant other.”, said Jehan gently who had kept out of the whole quarrel up until now. Now he came to rest his hand on the boy's shoulder and looked down at him smiling softly.

“Really?”, asked Gavroche and looked at the dragon in his arms.

“Her name's Andromeda.”, informed him Jehan and patted the head of the dragon, “She's a viper's bugloss moth-wing, one of the most rare dragon species in the world. And one of the oldest, too.”

“What type is she?”, asked Gavroche whose eagerness returned after the shock of finding his dragon while his eyes flicked back and forth between Jehan and Grantaire.

“She's a type four and will most likely grow into a very impressive dragon.”, said Bousset and stepped forward.

In a whirl of conversations, congratulations and questions, Gavroche was swooped away and Courfeyrac remained behind with Combeferre and Éponine, who was eyeing him with a pitiful expression on her face.

“Courfeyrac, I...”, she started and rubbed the back of her neck, seemingly embarrassed, “I'm sorry for... what I said. And I'm sorry about Andromeda. I know it must hurt to...”

“It's fine, Ponine.”, said Courfeyrac and was surprised how even his voice sounded although he felt like curling up in a corner, “Really, don't worry. I'm happy for those two.”

“You sure?”, she asked and stepped towards him, “I can understand if you'd not want them around yourself for a while.”

“Don't be ridiculous.”, said Courfeyrac and forced himself to give her a wide grin, “It's nothing, really. Go on and help him understand what's going on. It's probably really confusing for him right now.”

Éponine looked at him long and intensely, then she took his hand, raised to tiptoes and kissed his cheek tenderly. While dropping back to her heels, she whispered: “I'm sorry, Courf.”

He gave her a wry smile and watched her walk over to the sofas where the others had assembled and were fussing about Gavroche and Andromeda. Courfeyrac cast down his eyes and strode towards the opening of the hallway leading to the rooms.

“Courfeyrac.”, said Combeferre quietly and hurried after him, catching up at the opening of the tunnel. He took Courfeyrac's hand and held him back, turning him around by the shoulder to look at him. Quietly he asked: “Are you really all right? And don't even _think_ about giving me those feeble excuses you gave Éponine.”

Courfeyrac sighed and looked down at their hands, Combeferre's fingers woven through his, holding on tight. Looking up, he shrugged and murmured without meeting Combeferre's eyes: “I've had better experiences since I came here.”

“Come here...”, breathed Combeferre and in the shelter of the shadows in the tunnel, he let go off Courfeyrac's hand and wrapped one arm around his neck, the other hand resting on the small of Courfeyrac's back to draw him tight. He tugged Courfeyrac's head under his chin and sighed deeply while Courfeyrac's arms wrapped hesitantly around Combeferre's waist.

“I know this sucks.”, said Combeferre under his breath and pressed a fond kiss into Courfeyrac's curls, “And I can't begin to imagine how you must feel now. But believe me, you're going to find your dragon, I am so sure about that. And until then... Parthenope and I will be there for you.”

“You'll be enough entirely.”, said Courfeyrac in a quiet voice and closed his eyes, his cheek nestled into Combeferre's shirt where he could hear the sure, calming heartbeat of the other man beneath his ear.

Combeferre kissed his hair once more and breathed in again, smelling Courfeyrac's hair like he had done so often in the past few days. Courfeyrac smiled to himself and tightened his hold around Combeferre, not inclined to let go until the little sting in his heart would subside.

 

:<∙>:

 

“Thank fuck you're here!”, exclaimed Grantaire and rushed towards them when they entered, “I already felt really cooped in.”

“You've been here about half an hour.”, remarked Combeferre gently and smiled at Grantaire.

His face seemed ashen in the twitching light of the fire he had lit in the middle of the cave and his eyes were wide and nervous while he gave them a long, assessing look.

“You all right?”, asked Grantaire and grabbed Combeferre's shoulder carefully, looking intently at them while Parthenope walked over to Ruby and Syrah to greet them.

“We're fine.”, said Combeferre and patted Grantaire's shoulder in turn, “The flight was uneventful and the guiding system Jehan and Feuilly came up with was very helpful.”

“It's good that you're here now.”, sighed Grantaire and crossed his arms, looking at Courfeyrac now, “Then I haven't to wait all on my own anymore. You can get positively mad when left to worry alone, let me tell you.”

“Seems unlike you to worry.”, tried Courfeyrac to lighten the mood and nudged Grantaire a little.

“Please!”, snorted Grantaire, “I'm a sceptic person by nature. I _constantly_ worry.”

“And I thought that was Joly's job.”, grinned Courfeyrac and managed to make Grantaire smile a little.

The three men took up the luggage Combeferre and Courfeyrac had brought with them and stored it away in one corner of the cave. Looking around, Courfeyrac was disappointed how tiny the cave really was. Jehan had been right when he had said that it would be a little squeeze to fit all of them including their dragons into the cave, but Courfeyrac had thought it was just his way of exaggerating the truth a little bit.

But as it was, with Parthenope, Ruby and Syrah already in the cave and three men there as well, the cave was already a little crowded. Imagining Lamia, Ophelia, Romeo and Swoboda along with all the other smaller dragons in here, Courfeyrac judged that the humans did not really have to expect a lot room to move. Courfeyrac was sure that there was trouble on the way if they were to be locked up in here over a long time.

They settled down around the small fire, all three pretending not to be as nervous as all of them were. Courfeyrac knew now why everyone had been so reluctant to fly at night. There had been no stars or moon that night for the sky was overcast. The mountainsides had been pitch black as well as the horizon or the sky above them. If it had not been for Combeferre's warm body in front of him and Parthenope's assuringly flapping wings under him, Courfeyrac would have felt like floating in an endless blackness.

Until he had seen the first blob of light in the sky: Chimera, hovering on the spot, the small torch clutched in her claws. She had purred at them as they had passed her. Combeferre had been tense and Courfeyrac had softly stroked his stomach to calm him. Combeferre had entwined their fingers but had not calmed down.

Phoenix had been the second station, the slightly larger torch strapped to his back while he flew in tiny circles through the air. Parthenope had increased her speed as she had already seen the third point of reference in the sky in front of them: Prokno. Passing Éponine's dragon, Combeferre had pointed in front of them. On the peak of a mountain, Jehan was waiving another flash light. The sign that the entrance to the ravine was close.

Enjolras had been their last guiding light and Parthenope had landed next to him, tousling his blond hair and nearly extinguishing the torch he was holding up into the air. He had been anxious and hugged – Courfeyrac had nearly chocked on his own breath from surprise – first Combeferre and then Courfeyrac before ordering them to enter the cave. And now they were waiting for the rest of the rebels to arrive.

Joly, Bousset and Bahorel along with Lamia were the next team to arrive. Grantaire was on his feet in an instant and wrapped Joly up in a breathtaking and probably bone-crushing hug while Combeferre and Courfeyrac greeted Bahorel and Bousset.

“Lamia and I nearly missed Jehan's sign.”, complained Bahorel and rubbed his face thoroughly while Bousset seemed paler than usually.

“Then you would have seen Enjolras' torch in the darkness.”, tried Combeferre to ease the uneasiness in the cave, “Nothing happened. You're safe now.”

“I just hope that Feuilly arrives soon.”, sighed Bousset and let go off Grantaire who seemed relieved about having his two best friends back in one piece. Bousset's worries were obvious: Feuilly was entitled to transport Musichetta to their hiding place.

“He should be here in the next ten minutes.”, said Combeferre and patted Bousset's shoulder while giving a reassuring smile to Joly who was keeping close to Grantaire's side.

“I hope you're right, this whole tension is starting to freak me out... my nerves are not made for this kind of stress.”, groaned Joly and rubbed his face with both hands while Grantaire wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

And so they waited again. Slowly, all the other teams were trickling into the cave as well: Feuilly accompanied by Musichetta, Cosette with Marius who sought out Courfeyrac immediately to make sure that he was all right. Jehan abandoned his lookout afterwards and arrived at the cave along with Éponine and Gavroche. As soon as they were in, Enjolras came into the cave as well. They were all there, finally.

“Well, this worked better than I've expected.”, sighed Jehan relieved and wrapped his arms around Feuilly's and Bahorel's neck, hugging them to his sides. Letting go off the men, Jehan rose to his tiptoes and placed a kiss on Feuilly's cheek. Grinning up at the ginger man, he praised: “Especially your idea with the torches, they really saved us.”

“Bah”, made Feuilly quietly, his cheeks all rosé and his ears flaming red while Bahorel watched the other two men fondly, “That was nothing...”

“Now that everyone's here”, greeted Enjolras them and stepped into the flickering light of the fire, the dancing shadows casting a majestic light on his sharp, clear features and illuminated him like the old masters always portrayed their youthful heroes in their epic paintings, “I'd like to establish a few things.”

Everyone gathered closer, an ever present tension still lingering in the air. Courfeyrac stepped next to Combeferre and took his hand. Slowly entwining their fingers, he tried a careful smile and was rewarded by a fond smirk that Combeferre bestowed on him.

“We need to set up a sentinel. I'd like to have someone watch the surrounding of the mountain at all times.”, declared Enjolras with a sinister glance, “Jehan told me about a little dent further up in the mountainside where you will have a nearly all-around lookout position. It is accessible through a narrow path starting just outside the entrance.”

“I'll take the first watch.”, said Combeferre calmly and Enjolras nodded grateful.

“Thank you, Ferre.”, said Enjolras and turned to the rest of them, “All you others, please store away the baggage and the stock. And let's try to get some sleep fairly soon. Feuilly, how long do you think it will take until you have the emergency generator up and running?”

As this seemed to be an unofficial dismissal, Combeferre turned to leave but Courfeyrac held him back. Turning, he looked down at Courfeyrac in a questioning way.

“I'll come with you.”, he stated and picked up the coat Bousset had lend him.

“You don't have to.”, said Combeferre and carefully brushed a stray curl out of Courfeyrac's eyes, “Try and get some sleep, it's been a long day for all of us.”

“I can sleep once I'm dead.”, smiled Courfeyrac and stepped closer to Combeferre, raising on tiptoes to whisper against his ear, “Besides, we won't get that much privacy in the next few days so better use every moment given to us, right?!”

Combeferre seemed to blush – ridiculous and hellish cute at the same time, Courfeyrac thought, considering how open and forward the tall man had been the day before about his cravings – and nodded just a little, ordering him to bring at least a blanket or two if they didn't want to freeze in the dent on the mountainside.

While Courfeyrac was asking Musichetta for two blankets for them, he watched Combeferre stride towards Enjolras and tell him about Courfeyrac coming with him.

“So you're planning on seducing him in the light of the stars, are you?”, asked Bousset cheeky and shoved a small bag with a bit of food into Courfeyrac's hands while Musichetta held out the blankets for him.

“Not planning anything.”, complained Courfeyrac but could not keep the smile from his face, “Besides, Combeferre has been the one to pounce upon me last night.”

“Too much information, love.”, grinned Musichetta and motioned with her chin behind Courfeyrac, “And he's coming, you might want to keep your smut to yourself.”

“Smut?!”, asked Courfeyrac and pretended to be hurt by clutching his shirt with both hands right over his heart, “How dare you? Jehan said it was the most pure and natural form of love, so...”

“What are you talking about?”, asked Combeferre and took one of the blankets from Courfeyrac.

“Mating habits of certain predators.”, said Musichetta cryptically and flashed a sly smile at Courfeyrac who rolled his eyes and took Combeferre's hand to draw him away, still smiling while Combeferre asked: “What kind of predators?”

“Dragon riders and First Hunters.”, laughed Courfeyrac and drew Combeferre out onto the small projection at the entrance of the cave. Combeferre gave an amused snort but followed Courfeyrac towards the trail and up the hillside until they came to the dent just beneath the peak of the mountain.

The night was cool but not unpleasant. A soft breeze from the south whirled up the scent of the trees and crops in the valley and brushed through their hair. The sky had cleared up to the north and from time to time, stars were blinking against the velvety black of the night-sky. The area was quiet and peaceful and Courfeyrac could not imagine that out there, somewhere to the west, was a ware band set to take every head of his new-found friends.

“Are you all right?”, asked Combeferre quietly while he stepped to Courfeyrac who stood at the edge of the dent, his arms folded and gazing to the west.

Courfeyrac nearly could not see his face in the darkness, only his glasses seemed to reflect the distant light of the stars and the crescent moon. He turned to Combeferre and nodded, accompanying the nod by the words: “Just been thinking...”

“Very unlike you.”, teased Combeferre and his hand snaked up Courfeyrac's arm, over his shoulder and came to rest on the side of Courfeyrac's neck.

“Rude.”, grinned Courfeyrac and pushed his face into the touch, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.

Combeferre was different whenever they were alone. He seemed to be very private about his feelings and was not too keen about public display of affection, at least not at the start of these things. And so Courfeyrac thanked every deity he could think of for the possibility to be alone with Combeferre now.

He turned his head and kissed Combeferre's palm tenderly before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Combeferre's waist. Combeferre hugged back, resting his cheek on the top of Courfeyrac's head. They stayed like that for a few moments, then Combeferre suggested: “Come on, let's sit down. Bousset gave you something to eat, I saw...”

“Are you hungry?”, asked Courfeyrac and felt his way towards the centre of the dent to sit down on one of the blankets.

“A bit.”, sighed Combeferre and followed him carefully, “I couldn't really bring myself to eat something for dinner.”

“Nervous stomach?”, asked Courfeyrac and opened up the bag, feeling for the small flash-light Bousset had packed in there as well.

“No, just nervous in general.”, chuckled Combeferre and sat down as well, so close to Courfeyrac's side that his thigh was pressed against Courfeyrac's and his shoulder rested against Courfeyrac's back. Thankful for the darkness, Courfeyrac smiled like a fool and kept digging through the bag.

“Aha!”, triumphed Courfeyrac finally and lit the small flash-light inside the bag, knowing that any glimpse of light could attract the attention of a possible enemy. Finally illuminated, they saw what Bousset had packed them: some bread, some white, hard cheese and dried meat.

“What's that?”, asked Combeferre and pointed at a small, ceramic bottle on the ground of the bag.

“No idea...”, murmured Courfeyrac and bent lower over the bag to read the letters written onto the white glazing of the bottle. When he had finally made out the tree letter word, he burst into a breathless laughter and curled up in himself.

“What?”, asked Combeferre and poked his side carefully, “What's so funny.”

Wheezing from trying to keep in his laughter, Courfeyrac straightened and leaned his face against the side of Combeferre's neck, catching his breath.

“Oil”, said Courfeyrac in a steady giggle, “He's packed us a small bottle of oil, that bastard!”

“Oh my god.”, groaned Combeferre and sounded unsure whether he should laugh or cry. Unsure of what to make of Combeferre's strange tone of voice, Courfeyrac sat back up and didn't feel like laughing anymore. He started handing out the food, his fingers brushing Combeferre's longer than maybe necessary while Combeferre was still leaning slightly into him.

They ate in silence while the clouds broke and the crescent moon painted the scenery silver. Courfeyrac got aware that Combeferre was watching him whenever he thought Courfeyrac was immersed in digging through the bag or looking at his food but he didn't say something. When they were finished eating, Courfeyrac stored away the rest of the food and sighed.

While Combeferre took off his glasses to clean them, Courfeyrac struggled to his feet and stepped to the edge of the dent to look to the west again. His thoughts returned to the task at hand and his eyes scanned the wood to the west. He knew that his men – no, the warriors of the realm – were out there. He knew that they were still a threat and wondered when they would see that the rebels were not where they were looking for them.

He knew most of those men. He had grown up with most of them, had trained and fought alongside many of them. They were good warriors, loyal soldiers but not many of them were good men. They were ruthless, merciless and followed any order given to them blindly. Many men became soldiers and warriors in particular if they had no other prospect in life. Some even enjoyed killing.

Courfeyrac shivered and slowly crossed his arms. He knew that the men the king had sent to look for them were not the men he had considered friends while he had lived at court. He knew that these men were the most loyal to Javert and those men were dangerous. And once they caught the scent of their prey...

Combeferre stepped behind him, his arms slowly looping around Courfeyrac's waist, drawing the shorter man back against his body. His warm, soft lips came to brush over the sensitive spot beneath Courfeyrac's ear while Courfeyrac's head fell back against his shoulder. Courfeyrac rested his hands over Combeferre's over his stomach and sighed.

“You're strangely quiet tonight. I'm not used to you being so thoughtful.”, Combeferre murmured against Courfeyrac's ear, his lips brushing the shell tenderly.

Running his thumb back and forth over the back of Combeferre's hand, Courfeyrac sighed and nuzzled his temple against Combeferre's. He took his time with his answer, wondering if Combeferre thought that he was really only an empty-headed jester. Dismissing the thought, Courfeyrac murmured: “We should be safe here. But I still can't shake the feeling of being in danger. Of you _all_ being in danger.”

“If I were Joly, I would tell you that you are worrying too much. It's not good for your nerves.”, said Combeferre in a low voice and pressed a kiss to Courfeyrac's temple.

“But you're not Joly, thankfully.”, said Courfeyrac in an equally low voice, “So what do you think?”

Combeferre was quiet for sometime while he was staring over Courfeyrac's shoulder to the west. Courfeyrac's eyes scanned the woods as well, dreading to see a light flash somewhere in the distance. But the wood was dark, nearly peaceful. But beneath those leaves was danger, Courfeyrac was sure about that.

“I think you did all you could do for us.”, said Combeferre finally, “I think you're the reason we are save now. Without you, we would have mistaken them for a normal hunting party and would have maybe tried ambushing them. I think it's thanks to you we are save now.”

“Hm...”, made Courfeyrac, not entirely convinced about Combeferre's words as the threatening shadow of the war band was still hanging over the wood to the west.

“Don't worry.”, whispered Combeferre and his hot breath against Courfeyrac's skin made him shiver, “We'll be fine.”

“I hope you're right.”, sighed Courfeyrac while Combeferre's lips ghosted over his neck slowly.

Seductively, Combeferre started nibbling and sucking at Courfeyrac's neck, his tongue brushing over Courfeyrac's skin from time to time while he drew Courfeyrac back closer against his body.

“We're supposed to stand watch...”, warned Courfeyrac in a weak voice although he cocked his head to bare even more of his neck for Combeferre.

“I know...”, breathed Combeferre and his hands started wandering over Courfeyrac's body, brushing up and down his sides, roaming down to lightly caress his hips, then up again to tug at the buttons of Courfeyrac's waistcoat until it was opened.

“You're not watching anything at all.”, complained Courfeyrac who felt his knees going weak and his blood rushing in his ears when Combeferre's hands slowly pushed inside his waistcoat.

“You can watch for the both of us.”, teased Combeferre and nipped at Courfeyrac's earlobe.

“And let you have all the fun?”, asked Courfeyrac cheeky and leaned back against Combeferre completely while Combeferre's one hand caressed Courfeyrac's collarbone through the fabric of the shirt as the other snaked down over his abdomen to push into the pocket of Courfeyrac's trousers, dangerously close to Courfeyrac's crotch.

“I think you might enjoy me having a little fun...”, grinned Combeferre into Courfeyrac's hair and scraped his nails over Courfeyrac's thigh.

Courfeyrac huffed a breathy laugh while he couldn't believe how this Combeferre was the same man than the Combeferre who had been mortified after finding the bottle with oil Bousset had packed for them. Slowly he lifted his arm and curled his hand around the shaved back of Combeferre's head, drawing him closer while pushing his hips back against Combeferre.

Combeferre hummed low and used his grip on Courfeyrac to turn him in his arms, one still lingering around Courfeyrac's shoulders while the other hand came to rest on the small of Courfeyrac's back. Courfeyrac could get used to being manhandled like this, his pulse quickening and his head spinning a little.

Courfeyrac raised his face towards Combeferre's and nudged his chin with his lips, begging for a kiss. Combeferre obliged all too happily and trapped Courfeyrac's lips in a slow, indulgent and sweet kiss that made Courfeyrac's heart leap in his chest. Combeferre's hand slid lower and closed slowly around the roundness of Courfeyrac's bottom, squeezing lightly while Courfeyrac moaned against Combeferre's lips.

“You're very distracting...”, whispered Courfeyrac breathlessly while Combeferre's lips peppered his throat and neck with sweet kisses, Combeferre's hand on his butt still squeezing lightly while Combeferre drew Courfeyrac even closer against himself, “I can't watch if you... _ah_... keep this up.”

Courfeyrac brought up both hands and closed them around Combeferre's face, drawing him down into another long, soft kiss that made Combeferre melt against him. Courfeyrac's lips wandered over Combeferre's jaws and onto his neck while the taller man breathed heavily: “If you'd rather want to stand watch, I can stop.”

“God, no!”, groaned Courfeyrac and pushed against Combeferre's shoulders to make him walk backwards towards where they had sat moments ago.

In a tangle of limbs and clothing, still kissing slowly and tenderly, they slumped down on the blanket, Courfeyrac landing on top of Combeferre. He heaved himself over Combeferre, pushing one of his knees between Combeferre's and his fingers undoing the clasps and the tying at the sides of Combeferre's cuirass. Combeferre's fingers were pushing the waistcoat off Courfeyrac's shoulders which was a much easier endeavour than getting him out of the armour.

“You're lucky you look attractive as hell in that thing.”, grumbled Courfeyrac disgruntled when he had to stop kissing Combeferre because he had to pay closer attention to what he was doing, fiddling with the tying under Combeferre's right arm, “Otherwise I'd burn it... _Stupid_ clasps!”

“Jehan might cry if you did.”, mused Combeferre and put his head back against the second blanket that served as a pillow now.

“Do you really want to talk about Jehan right now?”, asked Courfeyrac and looked up.

Combeferre's slender face with the high cheekbones and the aristocratic forehead was touched by the silver light of the crescent moon and his glasses glimmered in an almost mythical light while he watched Courfeyrac amused. Courfeyrac couldn't believe how lucky he was to be allowed to kiss this man.

“I'd rather kiss you.”, grinned Combeferre and Courfeyrac needed no second invitation but leaned down to trap Combeferre's lips in a searing kiss.

After a lot of shifting and wiggling with Courfeyrac finally rolling off of Combeferre in order to tug off the armour, they lay side by side on the blanket, their torsos bare, their boots kicked off, the night air swirling over their bare skin. Combeferre had drawn Courfeyrac against his chest again, one of his legs pushed between Courfeyrac's, his arm serving as a pillow while the other rested lightly over Courfeyrac's waist, his fingers trailing up and down Courfeyrac's spine.

Courfeyrac could feel Combeferre's breath on his own lips between kisses. Moments like this one were so surreal that Courfeyrac wondered if he would wake up any second now, back in the comfortable four-poster bed in his massive chamber in the tower of the castle. But Combeferre's warm body, the feather-light touch of his fingers on Courfeyrac's skin and his hot breath swooping over his lips were indication enough for this moment to be completely and utterly real.

“Courfeyrac?”

“Hm?”

“Did I rush things?”

The question came out of nowhere and Courfeyrac looked at Combeferre startled. There was a deep crease between Combeferre's brows and he seemed troubled while his fingers on Courfeyrac's back seemed to hesitate a little. Courfeyrac did not like that scowl one bit and raised his head to place a quick, reassuring kiss on Combeferre's lips.

“What do you mean?”, asked Courfeyrac carefully, not really knowing where this was going and wondering if Combeferre would retrieve from this, would push him away.

Combeferre averted his eyes and caught his lower lip between his teeth, worrying at it for a moment before he sighed and whispered: “I mean last night. I didn't want to be so... forward but...”

“But?”, prompted Courfeyrac and kissed Combeferre's lower lip, running his tongue over it for emphasize that he in fact liked forward – liked it a lot. Especially when it came from Combeferre.

“But you just make me loose all caution. I feared I might have overwhelmed you.”, mumbled Combeferre, but his fingers started moving up and down Courfeyrac's spine again, sending a shiver of pleasure through his body.

“You _did_ overwhelm me.”, grinned Courfeyrac and dropped his head to suck for a moment at Combeferre's collarbone, feeling how the other man's breath hitched in his throat. When he let go off Combeferre, he whispered against his neck: “But it was the best feeling ever. So never stop overwhelming me.”

Combeferre chuckled and nuzzled his forehead against Courfeyrac, nipping at his lips carefully while Courfeyrac smiled into the caress. When he let go off Courfeyrac, Combeferre took a deep breath and whispered in such a low voice that Courfeyrac nearly not picked the words up: “I'd really like to fuck you...”

Courfeyrac did not know what he should reply to such a statement but the way his body tensed against Combeferre's and they way his hips rolled forward rather involuntarily, Combeferre must have understood that Courfeyrac was not really opposing that notion.

“Didn't you already fuck me last night or did I misunderstand something there?”, asked Courfeyrac teasingly and kissed the corner of Combeferre's mouth.

The other man chuckled low and mumbled: “No, I mean... properly.”

Courfeyrac felt himself blush – since when did he blush at such talk? What was this man doing to him? Then he looked up at Combeferre, not really able to hide a tempted grin when he hummed: “If you think that fucking me on a raggedy blanket in the open field on the rough stone of these mountains, we really need to talk about your definition of properly!”

“You are unbelievable!”, grinned Combeferre and rolled on top of Courfeyrac, leaning down to kiss him, a sweet, tender little kiss that deepened soon and turned more demanding, more frantic, more hungry with the moments ticking by. When Combeferre was slowly drawing back, Courfeyrac's eyes were still closed and his breath was ghosting quickly over his lips.

Looking up, he saw Combeferre barely outlined against the black sky painted with glittering stars. He took a deep breath and reached up to take off Combeferre's glasses with slow movements, placing them into the bag Bousset had packed them while Combeferre watched him with what looked like a little smile through the dark.

“All right...”, sighed Courfeyrac when the glasses were gone and reached up to brush his fingertips along Combeferre's jawline, “If that kiss was a start for _properly_ , I'm in...”

“How kind...”, chuckled Combeferre but leaned down to kiss Courfeyrac again. His lips soon left Courfeyrac's lips and wandered down over his throat, over the chilled skin stretched over his collarbones and further to his chest.

Courfeyrac's fingers laced into Combeferre's hair when the lips of latter brushed briefly, most tenderly over one of Courfeyrac's nipples. He sucked in a deep, long breath and arched off the stone, feeling Combeferre slowly lick along the tender skin around his nipple, then taking it between his teeth to slowly, tenderly tug.

“God, Combeferre...”, sighed Courfeyrac and pushed up into the touch, feeling Combeferre's nails slowly scratch down his side towards his hips. Combeferre's warm fingertips danced over the muscles on his hips towards the tying of his trousers while his lips followed down his chest towards his navel, nuzzling along the dark trail of hair that disappeared in Courfeyrac's waistband.

The tying undone in no time, Combeferre slowly slipped his hands into Courfeyrac's trousers, still nosing at the soft skin just above the waistband and pulled them down to the knees, taking the breeches right with them. Slowly he ran his warm palms down Courfeyrac's thighs, brushing the stiff fabric first off of one leg, then off the other.

Courfeyrac was shaking all over when Combeferre's lips ghosted up from his right knee, over the tender skin of his inner thigh, up over his hip, following his rib cage and up to his neck where he started sucking at the spot under Courfeyrac's ear that made Courfeyrac's eyes roll back in his skull. Courfeyrac's hands went up and brushed down Combeferre's back to wander into his trousers, the urge of feeling skin on skin too demanding to just lie still.

Combeferre took a long, humming breath and let go off Courfeyrac's skin with a plopping sound that made Courfeyrac chuckle despite his thundering heart, his rushing blood and the yearn to get some friction onto his already hard cock.

Combeferre stretched and reached out for the bag while Courfeyrac's eyes wandered over the stretching and twisting muscles in Combeferre's chest and shoulders, huffing with desperation because he seemed so perfect in the silver light of the crescent moon.

Before sliding down between Courfeyrac's already quivering legs, Combeferre stole a quick kiss from Courfeyrac. While Combeferre settled down between his legs, his warm breath ghosting over Courfeyrac's inner thigh, his head sagged back against the blanket and he raised his hands to bury his fingers in his unruly curls, feeling the need to have something to hold on to.

The plop which gave away the removal of the cork from the small bottle made Courfeyrac shiver and moan quietly into the night air. Combeferre's lips on the tender skin just above his knee made him toss his head just a little, his eyes screwed shut. When he felt the soft, almost reluctant touch of Combeferre's slick index finger against his entrance, he drew his legs up to press his feet flat against the stone, his hips moving down only a little to meet Combeferre's finger.

“Gosh...”, sighed Combeferre entranced and nibbled at the tender skin of Courfeyrac's inner thigh before carefully pushing his index finger in a little, only one knuckle deep. Courfeyrac groaned delighted at the new feeling and clenched down only a little, his head turning from one side on the blanket to the other.

Combeferre was careful, tender and soft while he ventured further in stretching Courfeyrac. He knew just how to move his fingers, slowly, teasingly, exasperating delicately within him. Courfeyrac was writhing when Combeferre carefully added a third finger, pushing in and crooking all three of them.

“Fuck!”, exhaled Courfeyrac brokenly and arched off the blanket, the muscles in his lower back, his thighs and lower stomach spasming with the sparks flying up his spine when Combeferre hit that one magnificent spot.

Combeferre seemed to enjoy torturing Courfeyrac in that sweet way because he repeated the movement three time over before Courfeyrac collapsed onto the blanket, panting: “Combeferre... please... _ah_... _please_!”

When Combeferre's fingers were gone and he drew back, Courfeyrac whined low and straightened up on one elbow, looking for what the reason of the disturbance might be. When he saw Combeferre fiddling with the tying of his trousers, his hands a little jittery with barely contained impatience, he smiled and sat up. Carefully taking Combeferre's hands in his, he made the other man look up.

Catching Combeferre's lips in a heated, demanding kiss, he pushed his hands away and undid the tying himself, feeling Combeferre's breath hitch under his lips when his fingertips brushed over the hard bulge in his breeches. Combeferre let him brush down his trousers slowly, Courfeyrac's fingertips dancing along the waistband of the breeches while Combeferre nuzzled his forehead against Courfeyrac's, his breath fast, all his muscles tense with anticipation.

“Courfeyrac!”, gasped Combeferre when Courfeyrac palmed him trough his breeches, his hands shooting up to Courfeyrac's shoulders to grip there for purchase. Courfeyrac mouthed along Combeferre's jaw and down his neck while he gently rubbed the soft fabric over Combeferre's clothed erection.

“God...”, moaned Combeferre, his fingers digging into Courfeyrac's skin while he crowded against the other man, “Oh _god_ , Courfeyrac!”

Smiling pleased that not only Combeferre could make Courfeyrac loose his wits, Courfeyrac brushed off Combeferre's breeches while the longing curled up in his lower abdomen. Combeferre held his breath while Courfeyrac lay down again, eyes fixed at him, looking up at him through half-closed eyes. Tempting, he spread his legs a little further and arched his back a little, knowing quite well what he looked like laying spread out under Combeferre whose eyes went wide with wanting.

Courfeyrac couldn't even fight the small smile that crawled onto his lips and totally destroyed his come-to-bed-look. He reached up with both arms, a fond, gentle invitation for the man hovering over him, staring at him like he was the sun and moon and stars all together in one slender person.

Combeferre crawled up slowly, his hands to both sides of Courfeyrac's chest while he slowly leaned down to kiss Courfeyrac. He lowered himself gently until he lay fully on Courfeyrac who wiggled a little to press himself as flush against the other man as possible. They kissed and kissed until Combeferre moved his weight to one side, aligning himself carefully with Courfeyrac's entrance.

He raised his head and looked down at Courfeyrac, whispering: “Are you... Can I?”

“Yes, yes of _course_.”, breathed Courfeyrac and leaned up to kiss him while Combeferre pushed in slowly.

Courfeyrac went limp and collapsed back onto the blanket, his breath rushing out of him in a soft groan while Combeferre bottomed out very slowly, taking lots of time to make it as bearable and less painful for Courfeyrac. Their foreheads were nuzzled against each other while they breathed together, Combeferre staring into Courfeyrac's eyes while waiting for him to adjust.

Courfeyrac tilted his head up after a moment and nipped at Combeferre's lower lip carefully, his hips starting to move slightly against Combeferre's who took that as a sign to start moving as well. They set a slow, relishing rhythm that made Courfeyrac's breath go shallow whenever their hips connected. He wrapped his legs around Combeferre's hips, sliding his arms around his neck to draw him even closer to himself.

Combeferre pressed his forehead against Courfeyrac's shoulder, moaning softly into his skin while Courfeyrac clenched down only a little. He smiled pleased with himself, enjoying the soft sounds Combeferre made while moving over him. He turned his head and kissed Combeferre's temple, running his tongue along the shell of his ear afterwards.

Combeferre groaned deep in his throat and pushed himself up a little to kiss Courfeyrac breathless. Panting against each others lips a moment later, Combeferre took up the pace a little. Courfeyrac saw the strain in his face, the strain to stay gentle, to take his time, but he also saw the fire behind Combeferre's eyes that looked down at him like Courfeyrac was the only thing that could grant Combeferre any kind of relieve of that burning need in his eyes.

Ducking down, Combeferre closed his lips around one of Courfeyrac's nipples and rolled it carefully, flicking his tongue over the stiffened peak slowly, almost teasingly.

“Ah... ah... Combeferre!”, moaned Courfeyrac and arched off the stone, “Please... _again_!”

The pleading tone in Courfeyrac's voice made Combeferre groan, obliging the wish of the other man. He shifted his weight, pressed harder into Courfeyrac and adjusted the angle only a little to take his right hand off the stone.

Courfeyrac sighed and moaned at the change in angle and pushed up against the hand that brushed now over his chest. While Combeferre's lips were slowly tormenting his right nipple, Combeferre's fingers pinched and twisted the other softly, making sparks fly up and down Courfeyrac's spine. In combination with the smooth rolling of Combeferre's hips against him, the new angle and Combeferre's harsh breathing that broke the silence of the night, Courfeyrac felt himself sliding further and further towards the edge.

“God... Combeferre... _ah_ , god. Don't stop!”, whimpered Courfeyrac, tossing his head while Combeferre's rhythm got more and more frantic, his thrusts faster and deeper, harder. Courfeyrac met every one of these thrusts with a rolling movement, clenching down carefully until Combeferre let go off his nipple and hissed.

“Courfeyrac... don't... not again... It's... too much. 'M gonna come.”, stuttered Combeferre, taking his hand away as well, squeezing his eyes shut, his lips a narrow line while Courfeyrac understood that only his words and the small contraction of muscles had Combeferre at the verge of shaking apart.

He moaned brokenly and arched up, clenching a little again. Combeferre cursed under his breath, his hand once again off the stone. But this time he wrapped his fist around Courfeyrac's cock and started jerking him off to the rhythm of his thrusts.

Courfeyrac moaned obscenely loud and arched up, his arms closing around Combeferre's shoulders, his teeth digging into the soft flesh of Combeferre's shoulder while he tried to muffle the needy little sounds that escaped him with every contact of skin on skin.

He didn't last long. With a few more thrusts, a few more movements of Combeferre's hand – god, the way he used his thumb to brush over the slit of Courfeyrac's cock every now and then should be _illegal_ – and a few more feverish kisses into Courfeyrac's damp curls, the tension broke and Courfeyrac shook apart in Combeferre's arms with a throaty shout of Combeferre's name on his lips.

That and the way he clenched down on him must have pushed Combeferre over the edge as well for he grabbed Courfeyrac's hip with a bone-crushing force, his hips coming to a stuttering halt while his forehead was pressed against Courfeyrac's collarbone, a wordless moan washing over his lips while he tensed all over.

Courfeyrac's eyes were closed loosely, a faint little smile was on his face when Combeferre pushed himself up with shaking limbs, his breath still a little too fast. Courfeyrac opened his eyes and reached up gently to wipe a few damp strands out of Combeferre's face, tilting his head up to kiss him sweetly.

Combeferre carefully drew out, groaning almost regretful as he did. Courfeyrac's hands were resting on his sides, unable to let go off him just yet. He had wished the moment would last, would not vanish, would fade out into eternity, but now that reality was setting back in, he could not even stop grinning.

Combeferre looked down at him, now hovering on all fours over him, and could not stop the same smile spreading over his face. He kissed Courfeyrac's forehead tenderly and straightened up, taking both his hands into his own to press tender kisses onto Courfeyrac's knuckles. Courfeyrac was still watching and smiling while Combeferre sat up, leaned to the side and took up his breeches to clean himself off and after that take care of Courfeyrac as well.

“You should get dressed.”, murmured Combeferre against Courfeyrac's knee while he kissed the hot skin there, “You'll catch a cold if you continue lying around so sweaty.”

“If I'm sweaty, it's all your fault.”, murmured Courfeyrac and rolled over to curl around Combeferre, grinning up at him.

Combeferre smiled fondly down at him and tousled his hair with cool fingers while he murmured: “I'll never do it again if you mind it that much, I promise!”

“Don't you dare!”, smiled Courfeyrac and sat up, kissing Combeferre quickly before he got up to pluck their clothing from the stone to distribute them.

After they got dressed, they sat down on the blanket again, Courfeyrac settling down between Combeferre's legs, his back leaned against Combeferre's chest, Combeferre's arms wrapped around his waist and his chin propped onto Courfeyrac's head.

Some peaceful moments later, Courfeyrac huffed a quiet laugh and made Combeferre ask: “What?”

“Will you tell Enjolras that you did see nothing but my ecstatic face all night when he asks if we saw something?”, asked Courfeyrac teasing and entwined his fingers with Combeferre's.

“Probably not...”, said Combeferre and Courfeyrac could hear the smile in his voice, “I don't think he'll be particularly thrilled by that piece of information.”

“Then it'll be our secret.”, grinned Courfeyrac and wondered how he could still feel like a foolish boy, as sickeningly in love as he was right now.

“If you manage to keep your mouth shut, then it will be, yes.”, teased Combeferre and pressed a kiss into Courfeyrac's hair.

“Hey!”, protested Courfeyrac and struggled against Combeferre's arms only to find that his hold on him tightened a little more, “Are you implying I'm a chatterbox? That is a very hurtful and untrue accusation, Monsieur!”

Combeferre laughed – Courfeyrac heard him laugh outright for the first time since he had met him and felt that he liked that sound. A full, booming blast of happiness that shook his whole body and made him duck forward a little. Courfeyrac grinned and nuzzled back against him, placing his head against Combeferre's shoulder.

“I'm sorry.”, murmured Combeferre after recovering and pressed a kiss into his curls again, “How could I dare to only think of such a thing? I hope you'll forgive me.”

“But only because you're both gorgeous and intelligent.”, flirted Courfeyrac and felt Combeferre laugh again, his shoulders twitching in the silent burst of happiness.

“I'm so lucky.”, replied Combeferre and sighed into Courfeyrac's hair, inhaling his scent once again.

Courfeyrac nudged him a little with his shoulder, then they both were content to sit together in silence, staring out into the darkness to the west where fog started to drift out of the dense woods. Courfeyrac's eyes were wandering slowly over the treetops, the strangling feeling of danger suddenly completely gone while Combeferre's deep breathing in his ear lulled him to a comfortable state between awake and asleep that lasted until they heard footsteps behind them.

“Blimey, Courf, you lazy shit!”, laughed Bahorel who appeared behind them when the edges of the sky were tinged in a soft rosé colour, “Did you sleep all night while Ferre was the only one watching out?”

Courfeyrac startled up and turned in Combeferre's arm to find Bahorel glaring happily at him, his arms crossed and a very mocking, stern expression on his face. He struggled up, trying to smooth his hair down a little while Combeferre got up and stretched, turning to Bahorel.

“I've been awake!”, protested Courfeyrac before Combeferre smiled softly at him and turned to report to Bahorel again.

“It's been a quiet night. We didn't see any suspicious lights or movements. I hope your watch will be as uneventful as ours.”, reported Combeferre and patted Bahorel's shoulder.

“I sure hope so.”, grinned Bahorel, “Imagine Enjolras' mood when I have to go down there to tell him the war band has followed us.”

“Not the best, I should think.”, smiled Combeferre while Courfeyrac had gathered up their bag and stepped towards them.

“I'll leave you the blankets, Bahorel. It can get quite breezy up here.”, said Courfeyrac and pointed with his thumb over his shoulder towards the blankets on the ground.

“Thanks.”, grinned Bahorel and stretched a little, “And now get down and find some sleep, you lot. If you're lucky, Chetta has the porridge ready 'til you get down.”

“Thanks, Bahorel.”, said Combeferre and took his leave, smiling over his shoulder as Courfeyrac followed him on the heel.

They made their way down the mountain-path quite fast, now that they could see where they were going and finally found the opening of the cave again. Combeferre hesitated before going in, gazing into the black opening until Courfeyrac caught up with him. He stepped next to him and furrowed his eyebrows at Combeferre, about to ask what was wrong when Combeferre turned to him, kissed his forehead and took his hand in his before entering the cave.

Courfeyrac felt light-headed and sported that absolute ridiculous grin again that he had worn for the majority of the night. But this was meaning so much to him. Combeferre had always been very private about what there was between the two of them. Now that he had waited for him to take his hand to enter the cave together with Courfeyrac was making him feel dizzy from excitement and happiness.

Combeferre looked down at him and smiled about the beaming grin Courfeyrac wore while they strode together into the cave where the others were buzzing around, preparing breakfast, clearing away their beds from the night and feeding the dragons before eating themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a lot going on in this chapter, I hope no one got confused.
> 
> The stories Jehan was referencing to are medieval novels that featured in my lectures last semester, they are contrary to what Jehan says ALL very good and worth a read. The full titles are the following:
> 
> Friedrich von Schwaben - Anonymous (that's written in medieval German and there is no translation into English I know of)  
> Eneide - Heinrich von Veldeke (which is a novel adaption of the Aeneid by Virgil)  
> Chanson de Roland - Anonymous (written in old French)
> 
> The second and third are translated into English and published in the Penguine Classics series. If you like the Dark Ages, those two are always worth a read!
> 
> So, now that I've bored you enough, I thank all of you who follow this story so enthusiastic and hope you still enjoy it. And to those who only discovered it now: Welcome, hope you like what you read! ^^


	6. Chapter 6

The days passed slowly while they were herded together in the small cave. Sometimes the air was tense with conflict, on other times they sat together and laughed heartily about a bad joke. Courfeyrac understood that it was difficult to live together in such a small space, but he could not understand how irritable some reacted to the smallest things. But then again, maybe much of this tension and irritation was caused by the tiny cave and the feeling of looming danger.

One instant where the tension boiled over was when Enjolras found Cosette and Marius kissing at the back of the cave. What the majority of the group found rather endearing and lovely was enough for Enjolras to explode. He was screaming himself horse, first at Cosette who was screaming right back. Éponine interrupted them soon, taking Cosette's side and yelling at Enjorlas in turn while Enjolras turned to shout at Marius. Seeing that, Courfeyrac could not keep back because his protectiveness for Marius kicked in with full force. When he opposed Enjolras, Grantaire seemed to feel the urge to step in for his boyfriend as well and that called Gavroche onto the plan who thought that his sister might be treated badly, still yelling red-faced at Enjolras.

The whole scene ended when Feuilly dragged Enjolras away while Bahorel grabbed Grantaire around the waist and carried him off, Éponine and Cosette dragged back by Joly and Musichetta and Courfeyrac finding Combeferre's calming hand on his shoulder.

Smaller quarrels developed each day but did not cause so much trouble. There were no hard feelings left after that fight though. Only Enjolras could not keep from glaring at Marius from time to time whenever he laughed too loud or held Cosette too close. Courfeyrac would shake his head at him and Enjolras would roll his eyes but said nothing.

But not only rivalry and little rows were blooming in the little cave. People actually found together. Cosette and Marius had been the first ones and – so it seemed – Feuilly and Jehan were the ones to follow. Every evening when both were in the cave, they could be found sitting together, heads leaning against each other while Jehan read to Feuilly out of his favourite book. Other nights, Feuilly would show Jehan something on the maps they had brought or would fix something at the generator with Jehan hovering so close that their shoulders brushed, smiling shyly at the lithe young man whenever he handed him a tool.

Bahorel seemed happy with the intimacy Jehan and his boyfriend had found. He seemed to approve immensely and always encouraged Feuilly to spend time with Jehan while he was on the sentinel's post or otherwise occupied. Courfeyrac had been worrying a bit about those three but when he had walked up the mountain two days after their arrival to take over from Bahorel, he had walked in on him and Jehan trading sweet little kisses, Jehan's long hair loose and obscuring their faces while Bahorel's broad hands had rested heavily on his narrow hips. They had not minded him seeing them, they had laughed and left together, leaving a grinning Courfeyrac behind.

Another “relationship” that was progressing slowly and grew closer with every passing day was the friendship between Courfeyrac and Gavroche. Though no one had thought this to happen – Courfeyrac the last to think about it – they got closer through Andromeda, who was still very fixated at Courfeyrac but would not part for long from Gavroche. Éponine watched them critically every time they sat together, playing with Andromeda or talking about the growing baby-dragon. Gavroche was an intelligent, energetic and cheeky young fellow who managed to steal into Courfeyrac's heart rather sooner than he liked.

Though it still hurt. It hurt a lot. Seeing Andromeda huff fire at Gavroche while they played, the boy laughing and nudging her playful in return. Courfeyrac sometimes still hoped that it had been a mistake and found himself jealous whenever Andromeda curled up in Gavroche's lap to take a nap.

Another rather curios thing connected to that was that Parthenope seemed to feel the urge to ensure that Courfeyrac was all right. Whenever he had to look away from Gavroche patting Andromeda or the baby-dragon humming-purring-grumbling in response to a caress from the boy, Parthenope pushed through the cave – knocking over whatever was in her way – to curl around Courfeyrac and nearly hide him from all looks. That behaviour went on to the point that Combeferre would not talk to her anymore because he had gotten unbelievably jealous of the two. It took Courfeyrac, Parthenope and Jehan to make him give in and talk to her again.

Other than that, the time seemed to stretch rather than go by. Courfeyrac still felt always a little threat hanging over his head, although he never saw movements or lights in the woods that would give away the war band he dreaded to see. He could never shake the feeling that danger was looming out there, even when Bousset, Grantaire and Joly started making jokes about it three days after they had arrived in the cave.

On the morning of the fourth day – Courfeyrac had just gotten back from washing the pots and cutlery from breakfast down at the stream – Enjolras called him over to the impromptu map table in the furthest corner of the cave. Feuilly and Combeferre were with him along with a concerned Musichetta.

“Courfeyrac”, greeted Enjolras when he stepped towards the table, “I wanted to talk to you about the situation.”

“Fine.”, said Courfeyrac and brushed his fingertips over Combeferre's wrist as a small greeting, earning a fond smirk of the other man.

“You said back in our base that you think they would close their spiral in three days time. Which would have been yesterday.”, recapitulated Enjolras and pointed with a vague gesture to the map in front of him.

“That's correct.”, agreed Courfeyrac and measured the spiral that Feuilly had drawn onto the map with his eyes.

“So...”, said Enjolras and propped himself up with both hands on the edge of the table, “What do you think? Where are they now? What are they doing?”

“Unfortunately”, sighed Courfeyrac and tousled his hair nervous, going back to his own bitter thoughts of the morning, “I'm still no clairvoyant. I have a few vague assumptions but I can tell you nothing for certain.”

“Your assumptions have been always right in the past.”, said Feuilly encouraging and crossed his arms, “So we might as well trust in them once more.”

Courfeyrac looked over to Combeferre who gave a soft nod and then to Musichetta who smiled a little concerned. Courfeyrac directed his gaze back to Enjolras and sighed, nodding to himself.

“Fine, I tell you what I _think_ they're doing now.”, agreed Courfeyrac and cleared his throat, reaching over the table to tip his fingers onto the centre of the search spiral, “I think they might have reached that point by late afternoon yesterday. I'm almost certain that General Javert leads the warriors or at least has given the commands to the men out there. Meaning they will make great haste without being sloppy in their search. If they haven't been there yesterday, they will reach it by noon today. And they will find nothing, of course.”

“Do you think they'll call it off then?”, asked Feuilly and narrowed his eyebrows while Courfeyrac shook his head.

“No, definitely not.”, he said determined and motioned at the widest circle of the spiral, “I think they might send two to three men to the castle to report back but the main forces will enlarge the search circle. They won't go further than two miles off the original track, though.”

“So that means they will not even get close to where we are now.”, stated Enjolras in a low, almost relieved voice.

“I don't think so, no.”, said Courfeyrac and scratched the tip of his nose a little, “Even if Javert commands them himself he will not take that risk. They might go up further north or turn to the south to see if you've fled into another kingdom. But I think he will not think that you went east.”

“And why not?”, asked Feuilly, sounding genuinely confused.

Courfeyrac smiled up at him and rubbed the back of his head a little sheepishly, then he said in a quiet voice: “Well, he knows the policy of the kingdom to the east.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow at him and Feuilly seemed really confused now while Combeferre was watching Courfeyrac half-amused, half-reproving. Courfeyrac chuckled nervous and explained: “If you think that the dragon-policy of this realm is cruel and suppressive, you don't even want to know what _they_ are doing...”

Enjolras paled while Feuilly stared at Courfeyrac dumbstruck. Combeferre shook his head and Courfeyrac was not sure how disappointed and shocked he really was and how much amusement was in that small gesture. Musichetta seemed terrified.

“But don't be afraid, really. They are not daring to invade into this part of the realm or at least care about a bunch of runaway rebels hiding up here. They most likely don't even know we're here.”, reassured Courfeyrac fast and tried his most sincere smile at Enjolras.

“I hope so for your sake, First Hunter.”, grumbled Enjolras and trapped him in a warning gaze before nodding at the map, “Go on.”

“Right...”, said Courfeyrac and looked down again to pick up the train of his thought, “As I said, they won't come even close to here. We might have to stay maybe... well... maybe three days more. At the most! Then we should be able to return.”

“And then?”, asked Feuilly.

“Can we take up our work right afterwards?”, asked Combeferre insistent.

“What... is your work, exactly?!”, asked Courfeyrac curious because he still did not really know what everyone of the rebels did all day.

Enjolras and Combeferre exchanged a quick glance, then Combeferre nodded and Enjolras looked back at Courfeyrac to explain: “You know that we help people find their dragons if we can. And you know that we are helping wild dragons or the people who have lost their companions.”

“Yes.”

“There is more we do.”, said Combeferre and leaned with his hip against the table, facing Courfeyrac now who turned to him, thinking that it was most likely not the best idea to let Combeferre explain anything to him because he could not really focus well when he faced that ridiculously beautiful nerd.

“As in?”

“We educate people.”, answered Combeferre in his teaching voice, “We show them that dragons are not dangerous and that the king, by keeping the people from finding their dragons, suppresses the realm. The people would strive, gain more freedom by finding their dragons and learn to question everything the king and his scholars ever taught them. A few free man on a well trained dragon could remember that the regality in this realm is a construct. An artificial post established by one family which hungered for the power to rule this realm.”

“If the people knew... if only they could _understand_ ”, cut Enjolras in, a feverish passion in his eyes as he looked forcefully at him, “I am sure they would rise, I am sure they would fight for their freedom, for their natural right to rule themselves like we did in the old days. If we only joined forces instead of fighting against each other or the dragons, we could change the course of the future, make this world better for everyone. We could distribute the wealth the king hoards in his halls under the poor, we could help the many sick citizens who are living in the streets now with only half of the money the king collects as taxes. If the people understood and stood together, we could change so much!”

Courfeyrac was speechless for a moment, taking in everything Enjolras had just said. And Enjolras was right, hell, how could Courfeyrac have lived in the capital without seeing what was going on. He cursed himself for following the rules and doctrines of that despotism without ever questioning anything, without thinking about the things for himself. He had lived as they had wanted him to live, only lucky to be born into the higher ranks of society. He had been too lazy, too content to see the misery his fellow people suffered. In short, Courfeyrac felt horrible.

“Courfeyrac.”

Enjolras' quiet voice brought him back from his dark thoughts and he gazed up from staring at the map, his jaw set and brows drawn together. Enjolras was looking at him, seeming to understand the way he felt now, seeing the doubts and the blame he placed on himself. He reached over the table and grabbed Courfeyrac's shoulder.

“It's not too late.”, said Enjolras, “You know now how the things in this kingdom truly stand. You have chosen to stand with us. That is enough for now. Your time will come to fight, the time will come that _all of us_ will fight. And I am glad you will be with us in that moment.”

“Thank you, Enjolras.”, said Courfeyrac and felt how his throat went a little tight while Feuilly smiled encouraging and Combeferre placed his hand in the small of Courfeyrac's back. He sighed and smiled first at Enjolras, then at Combeferre before straightening and clearing his throat.

“Anyway...”, he sighed and tousled his hair a little, “I'm not sure how long they will keep up their search for Marius. And I... I don't know whether or not he will want to return to the palace, after... well, after Cosette and all. So I guess there are dangerous times ahead. I think it wouldn't hurt to lie low for a week or two.”

“Very well.”, said Enjolras and nodded, Courfeyrac rather surprised that he was so reasonable. He had taken Enjolras for a hothead who would not be content with lying low for a week. He caught the glance though that Combeferre was shooting at Enjolras and had to suppress a smirk. Maybe Enjolras was a hothead, but Combeferre knew how to handle and guide him, so maybe this was why he listened to Courfeyrac now.

“That still doesn't solve our problem.”, said Musichetta in a quiet voice and got the attention of the men again.

“You're right, I'm sorry.”, said Enjolras and turned to Courfeyrac, “Our stock on feed for the dragons is running low. We also seem to be out of several herbs that are seemingly desperately needed.”

“Courfeyrac and I will go and get them.”, said Combeferre out of the blue and startled even Enjolras who raised an eyebrow at him.

“Actually I was going to ask Courfeyrac if he would deem it save enough for Bahorel and Feuilly to look for those tonight.”, declared Enjolras and glared at Combeferre.

“And I was volunteering to go right away if Courfeyrac deems it save enough.”, replied Combeferre and pushed his glasses up a little.

“I think two men should be save, even during the day.”, declared Courfeyrac, not sure what to make of the small quarrel those two had.

Enjolras sighed and looked to Feuilly who just nodded, then turned to leave towards Jehan who was grinning wide when he saw the ginger man approaching him. Turning back to Combeferre, Enjolras nodded.

“All right, if you want to go, I am fine with that.”, he said a little tense and nodded hesitantly.

“It may be of advantage to send Combeferre”, grinned Musichetta, “At least he knows what kind of herbs I mean.”

“And I saw a very rare moth around the mountain yesterday and would really like to see if there are more around these parts.”, added Combeferre and smiled at Enjolras who rolled his eyes.

“Fine then, go and catch your butterfly...”

“Moth!”

“Whatever. But be careful and ask Feuilly for a crossbow.”, added Enjolras.

“A crossbow?”, asked Courfeyrac surprised and Musichetta grinned.

“Didn't you know that Ferre is a very respectable shot?”, asked Musichetta while Combeferre's cheeks and ears coloured in an endearing shade of pink.

“I didn't!”, laughed Courfeyrac delighted, “And that with him being as blind as a mole!”

Combeferre just snorted and pinched Courfeyrac's butt hard, making him jump and squeal surprised. Musichetta laughed delighted while Combeferre scoffed: “I see enough, thank you very much!”

With those words he followed Feuilly, winking at Courfeyrac as he went. Musichetta and Enjolras watched him amused while he rubbed his butt and shook his head.

“I'll go over and instruct him what I need. Thank you Enjolras... and you of course too, Courfeyrac!”, grinned Musichetta and bustled off while Courfeyrac turned back to Enjolras.

“Follow me.”, instructed the blond man and lead Courfeyrac towards the chests in the corner of the cave where they stored the weapons they had brought. Feuilly was kneeling there and sorted out a short crossbow with a few deadly looking bolts while Combeferre was hovering over him, waiting for the armourer to hand out the bow.

Enjolras approached another chest and opened it, tugging out a long bundle, wrapped in cloth. He turned and handed it to Courfeyrac with the words: “I think you should get this back. No man we trust should go without weapons in these dangerous times. This belongs to you.”

Courfeyrac unravelled the bundle and found his sword in there, the sheath decorated with gems, gold and silver, the handle delicate and ornate, also glinting with small gems and engravings. He closed his fingers around the handle and drew the swords. This blade was in a good state and Courfeyrac was sure Feuilly had kept it like that by polishing and sharpening it each evening.

He had his sword back. Enjolras trusted him enough to supply him with a weapon. Courfeyrac was sure that this was the last step to really admitting him into their circle, to acknowledge him as part of their group. His throat went tight again as he looked up at Enjolras, jaws working while he searched for words.

The blond man smiled a little and nodded. He stiffened though when Courfeyrac wrapped him in a breathtaking embrace, patting Courfeyrac's back a little awkwardly before pushing him off to smile a little embarrassed.

“Thank you, Enjolras. Though I won't be needing that.”, said Courfeyrac and drew the scabbard from the blade, tossing it at the blond man, “Take out the gems and the gold and use it. I have no use for it anymore. Feuilly, don't you have another scabbard for me that I could use?”

“Of course!”, grinned Feuilly while Combeferre looked at Courfeyrac as though he was the best and only person in the world. Courfeyrac blushed a little while Feuilly dragged out another sword, old and jagged, in a scabbard of soft leather. He gave it to Courfeyrac, muttering that it might be a little too small. Courfeyrac sheathed the sword and nodded as the blade showed for five centimetre over the edge of the sheath.

“Doesn't matter.”, he smiled and patted Feuilly's shoulder while he put the belt with the scabbard attached around his hips, “I can manage.”

“Then we're good to go.”, said Combeferre and shouldered the crossbow, another bag with what looked like a sketchbook and a notepad already over the same shoulder.

“You're going out?”, asked Jehan who had drawn nearer as they had talked.

“They are getting Musichetta's herbs and feed for the dragons.”, declared Feuilly and put his hand into the small of Jehan's back.

“But you can't go out!”, protested Jehan and glared at Courfeyrac, “It's not ready!”

“Ehm, what isn't ready?”, asked Courfeyrac a little confused and looked to Combeferre who just shrugged his shoulders equally clueless.

“Here!”, whined Jehan and grabbed Courfeyrac's wrist, dragging him across the whole cave to where his belongings were tugged away behind Ophelia who looked up interested when Jehan marched towards her. The huge dragon purred – since when were dragons able to purr? – and flicked her tongue towards Jehan while he clambered over her side to pull something out of a rough looking sack.

“What's going on?”, asked Bahorel sleepily and flopped down next to Ophelia, scratching her neck slowly while she tilted her head to give him better access.

“If only I knew!”, sighed Courfeyrac and rolled his eyes fondly at Jehan who slid back down to the ground, hair sticking up, a distressed look in his eyes.

“I made it for you!”, he huffed and unravelled a bigger parcel slowly, his brows drawn together in frustration, “It's nearly ready, I wanted to give it to you tonight for when you leave the cave next time. Now the whole surprise is spoilt...”

“If you'd kept your mouth shut and given it to him when he returns tonight, it would still been a surprise.”, grinned Feuilly and put his hand into Jehan's back who pushed a loose strand behind his ear, annoyance clouding over his features.

“But I...”, huffed Jehan and his hands tightened around the parcel, knuckles standing out white against the dark cloth.

“Jehan... I still have no clue what you're going on about but I really can't stand that nasty look on your gorgeous face, sweetheart!”, said Courfeyrac and stepped to him, touching his hands reassuringly.

Bahorel was watching the whole scene a little weary and Feuilly's face darkened when Courfeyrac complimented the lithe young man so shamelessly. Courfeyrac didn't care. He couldn't stand the bitter and disappointed look on Jehan's face and wanted to change that.

“So what's wrong, hm? Care to tell me?”, he asked again.

“I've started this before we left the old hideout and I... I just need to finish the clasps and the tying and then it's ready. I wanted you to wear it next time you go out.”, declared Jehan a little sheepish and opened the parcel. He drew out... a cuirass?

Courfeyrac's heart stopped for a few moments and his throat went tight when Jehan dropped the fabric and held out the leather cuirass he had made just for Courfeyrac. The leather was new and stiff, still shiny and of a caramel-brown. And like with his flying-mask, Jehan had used fragments of dragon scales and a shiny thread to sew a whirling spiral pattern onto the chest plate, circling from where Courfeyrac's heart would be underneath the armour down over the torso to the right hip area. It missed the accursed clasps under the arms and the tying along the left side that regulated the size, but otherwise it was almost done.

“Jehan!”, said Combeferre with awe, “That is a wonderful cuirass. The pattern is gorgeous.”

“Do you like it?”, asked Jehan still sheepish, his eyes trained at Courfeyrac who carefully ran his fingertips over the leather in Jehan's hand.

This morning was nearly enough for him. First Enjolras gave him back his weapon, showing him that he trusted him with his life and now Jehan revealed that artful piece of armour that would make him into a dragon rider as soon as he would close the clasps under the arms. This was like an initiation, like a promise, like the warmest welcome.

Courfeyrac looked up and the fondest grin imaginable split his face almost in two while he stepped forward, wrapping up Jehan in a bone-crushing embrace, trapping the cuirass in between their bodies without minding the scales digging into his chest.

Jehan laughed and squeezed back, placing a sweet little kiss on Courfeyrac's temple while the other man thanked him in a thick voice time and again. When he was still holding Jehan and both where giggling breathlessly, Bahorel got to his feet and dragged Courfeyrac away with the words: “That's it, sport. Get back to your own rider, that one's mine.”

“I thought Feuilly was...”, said Combeferre confused and Jehan and Courfeyrac laughed while Feuilly blushed heavily.

“You might be incredibly intelligent”, smiled Courfeyrac and raised on tiptoes to press a quick kiss to Combeferre's lips, “but sometimes you can be incredibly dumb too.”

A few minutes later and with very detailed and clear instructions from Musichetta, Courfeyrac took the rope and started his descend along the side of the mountain, Feuilly and Bahorel holding the rope while Courfeyrac climbed lower and lower. When he stood at the narrow shore next to the bubbling and gurgling stream, he looked up and waived.

A moment later, Combeferre was making his way down, Courfeyrac's grin widening with every movement of Combeferre's whose backside was entrancing from that angle. A few moments later, Combeferre dropped the last meter and gave the rope a sharp tug, waiving at Bahorel afterwards to roll the rope back up. The rope disappeared and Courfeyrac smiled and left to lead the way.

“A moth, huh?”, he asked cheeky and winked at Combeferre, “Couldn't you come up with something more believable?”

“I _did_ see a very rare species last night!”, protested Combeferre but Courfeyrac saw the way his lips twitched while they did not want to give in to the smile forming.

“It's in the _middle_ of the  day, Combeferre.”, snorted Courfeyrac, “Even _I_ know that moths are not out until sundown, and I can't distinguish a donkey from a horse.”

“It's the length that matters.”, said Combeferre stoically and Courfeyrac spluttered. Combeferre looked at him through the corner of his eyes and smirked, “Of the ears, of course. What did you think I was talking about?”

Courfeyrac grabbed the edge of Combeferre's cuirass, hurled him around and pressed him against the side of the mountain, crowding against him and attacking his mouth in a rough kiss, teeth clacking, too much tongue and the scraping of teeth against lips. When he was done, he sunk back onto his feet and beamed up at Combeferre who was panting, eyes wide behind his glasses, his lips red from kissing.

“I think you are trying to provoke me.”, purred Courfeyrac, “Congratulations, you succeeded.”

“Then I'm going to do that more often.”, grinned Combeferre and his hands went to Courfeyrac's waist, pulling him closer to kiss him again, this time taking his time, coaxing Courfeyrac's mouth open slowly to brush his tongue against Courfeyrac's. The shorter man sighed and wound his arms around Combeferre's neck to draw him closer.

Breaking the kiss, Combeferre hummed and raised a hand to brush over the lower line of Courfeyrac's lower lips, smiling softly while he was still watching Courfeyrac's mouth. Courfeyrac ran his tongue slowly along his lower lip and smiled when Combeferre sucked in a deep breath.

“We better get going.”, he mumbled and bent down to nip at Courfeyrac's lower lip, “Or I'm going to forget what Musichetta said and just stay here with you...”

“That does sound tempting and I'm not too keen about rummaging in the undergrowth for those plants of hers. Let's stay...”, purred Courfeyrac and tugged Combeferre down again, kissing him slowly, hoping to convince him about that plan.

Combeferre broke away after a moment and breathed: “I promised...”

“What if I promise you you won't regret if you stay now...”

“But I promised to get the herbs...”

“Tell her we didn't find any...”

“That's lying...”

“You lied about the moth...”

“That was only half a lie...”

“Please?”

“We really need to get those herbs!”

“Fine!”, groaned Courfeyrac bothered and let go off Combeferre, disappointment bubbling up in him. Combeferre caught him around the waist and drew him back against his chest, mumbling into his ear: “As soon as we're in the woods, I'll teach you how to shoot.”

“What a _consolation_...”, huffed Courfeyrac but when Combeferre brushed his lips down his neck, he shivered and sighed: “All right, I'm in... Let's go.”

They wandered along the river until they made their way out of the valley and over a crossing into the woods at the side of the mountains. Combeferre was walking in front of Courfeyrac, bending down from time to time to pluck some herbs or cut them with a short knife sticking in the side of his boot.

Courfeyrac trailed along, rather half-heartedly and still in a little bit of a huff. This trip had started so promising and now Combeferre seemed more interested in the flora and fauna of this wood than in him. The thought occurred to Courfeyrac that Combeferre was not only a gigantic tease in bed but also while spending time with him.

Paying closer attention, he recognized that Combeferre was stealing amused glances whenever he thought Courfeyrac wasn't watching and turned to his plants as soon as Courfeyrac would look. So this was a game, was it? Courfeyrac was not sure if Combeferre was that type of a person but judging from the small smirk he wore constantly, he might as well be that type. But Courfeyrac could also be sneaky. He intended to play his designated role but oh, he would take revenge on Combeferre for firing him up first and then teasing him about it.

Half an hour later, they came onto a clearing a little way off the path they had chosen and Combeferre dropped his bag, taking the crossbow from his shoulder and smiling at Courfeyrac.

“Did you ever shoot a crossbow?”, he asked and patted the weapon in his hands.

Courfeyrac shook his head and approached.

“Would you like to learn?”, asked Combeferre, coming back to the somehow a little ridiculous suggestion from earlier.

Courfeyrac shrugged his shoulders and stepped closer, grinning at the other man while he still wondered what the heck was going on: “Sure, can't hurt.”

“Right, watch and learn.”, said Combeferre and turned to the side, raising the crossbow, setting the stock against his shoulder and aiming along the flight groove. Courfeyrac saw him take a deep breath, then his finger crooked and the bolt shot from the weapon, drilling itself into a tree a few feet away.

Courfeyrac was actually impressed to find that Combeferre had aimed for a mushroom growing on the bark of said tree. Maybe his remark about Combeferre being too blind to be a good shot had been far from right.

Combeferre lowered the crossbow and smiled, beckoning Courfeyrac over to him with a movement of the head.

“That was quite impressive.”, said Courfeyrac and smirked, “Considering you're half-blind.”

“Shut up.”, grinned Combeferre and drew another bolt from his pocket, handing it to Courfeyrac. He showed him how to draw back the string and how to fix it around the nut and how to put the bolt in.

“Now put the stock against your right shoulder, right hand at the trigger, left hand supporting the flight groove. Turn a little.”, directed Combeferre and stepped behind Courfeyrac to look over his shoulder. His hands went slowly around Courfeyrac's waist, thumbs digging into his back carefully while he adjusted the angle. His breath was hot in Courfeyrac's neck and Courfeyrac suddenly had a hard time concentrating.

Combeferre's arm went around him and his finger closed around Courfeyrac's right hand to steady the weapon a little more. The other snaked around Courfeyrac's chest and up his neck until he pushed against his chin carefully to make him aim a little higher. After his adjustments they were standing flush together, Courfeyrac in Combeferre's arms, the crossbow slightly shaking in his hand while he was not used to the unexpected weight of the weapon.

“There we go...”, breathed Combeferre and nuzzled his cheek into Courfeyrac's hair to aim a little more. Courfeyrac shivered and the bolt tumbled away into the leaves of the tree Combeferre was aiming for.

“Too high...”, said Combeferre but did not step away, not taking his arms away either.

“You're too distracting.”, complained Courfeyrac weakly and had to hide his grin.

“In a fight you'll be more distracted than now.”, chuckled Combeferre and both his arms went down to snake around Courfeyrac's waist again, his lips nuzzling the skin just beneath Courfeyrac's collar.

“I think there's nothing more distracting than you in this whole world!”, smiled Courfeyrac and dropped the crossbow unceremoniously which Combeferre didn't seem to mind.

He turned in Combeferre's arms and snaked his own back around Combeferre's neck, going back to kissing him until they were both out of breath. Courfeyrac started backing Combeferre against one of the trees in their back, both leaning into each other until Combeferre relaxed back against the warm wood of the tree, still holding Courfeyrac.

“You've been very mean.”, breathed Courfeyrac and nipped at Combeferre's lower lip, tugging slightly, “Firing me up as soon as we were out of the cave and keeping me on my toes until now.”

“Did I do such a thing?”, asked Combeferre and mirth sparkled in his dark eyes, “I wasn't aware...”

“Oh, you _very_ much were, I believe.”, said Courfeyrac and aimed for a reproachful sound to his voice.

Combeferre raised an eyebrow at him while Courfeyrac's hand went up to grasp Combeferre's neck harder than usually. Combeferre's eyes went a little wider while Courfeyrac grumbled: “And I think you deserve to be taught a lesson about winding people up and leaving them tense for a long time.”

“What would you suggest, gorgeous?”, asked Combeferre, his voice maybe a little higher than usual.

Courfeyrac enjoyed himself immensely. He had been a master at seduction back in the castle. He knew every trick of the trade. He could be shy and chaste if the occasion called for it. But he was also an expert in being seductive, flirty and suggestive. He was very proud about the ability to make himself blush if he needed to or to make others blush only from a gaze of his or a soft touch of his hand. He had been the nightmare of every mother of a beautiful daughter – or son, for that matter – and had had the worst of reputations when he had been younger.

With Combeferre, it had not seemed necessary, not until now. And he enjoyed the nervous glint in Combeferre's eyes, the way he gulped high in his throat and seemed to breath faster when Courfeyrac ran his gaze over his face to hang for a moment or two at his lips, without kissing him. He would not have expected Combeferre to be into those kinds of things, he had thought Combeferre was too honest and straight forward for such games. But he seemed rather keen about it right now. And who was Courfeyrac to deny Combeferre anything?

“I think...”, breathed Courfeyrac and leaned up – why was Combeferre so much taller than him? – to whisper against his neck, “I'll show you what teasing really means...”

He licked over Combeferre's already damp skin, tasting salt and something so uniquely _Combeferre_ that made his heart pound faster. Combeferre's hands on Courfeyrac's waist trembled slightly while he took a deep breath, baring his neck even more for Courfeyrac.

Grinning into his skin, Courfeyrac leaned forward, pressing their chests together while he made sure not to put too much friction against Combeferre's crotch. Instead he shoved one knee between Combeferre's legs, rubbing it up and down the inside of Combeferre's knee, never further up than halfway up his thighs, teasing gently.

Combeferre tried to draw Courfeyrac closer, tried to kiss him but instead Courfeyrac sunk his teeth carefully into the skin of his shoulder that showed at the hem of his shirt. Combeferre groaned and pressed his temple against the top of Courfeyrac's head, his hands shaking on Courfeyrac's waist. Courfeyrac flicked his tongue over his skin before pulling away.

When he stepped only a small step back, Combeferre made an adorable, completely disappointed sound in the back of his throat and reached for Courfeyrac to stop him from retrieving. Courfeyrac pressed his hand against Combeferre's chest, a warning glance on his face that was only betrayed by the little twitch his lips did when Combeferre started to look like a kitten whose milk had been stolen from right before its nose.

“Take it easy, handsome.”, ordered Courfeyrac and took Combeferre's hand, raising it so he could nuzzle his cheek into the warm palm. Combeferre watched mesmerized while Courfeyrac closed his eyes, remembering something he had gotten aware of the very first time they had had sex. A faint smile stole onto his lips and he carefully took his lower lip between his teeth, biting down gently. The breathless groan that answered that action made Courfeyrac smile, opening his eyes.

He trapped Combeferre in a steady gaze while he opened his mouth slowly, mouthing at the tender skin of Combeferre's wrist, his tongue brushing the pulse-point from time to time. Combeferre's ability to breath seemed to fail and he stared, mouth hanging open, broken groans cascading from his lips while he was watching Courfeyrac transfixed.

“Having a thing for my mouth, haven't you?”, asked Courfeyrac teasingly, not sure if he would make Combeferre shy back by being so bold. But when Combeferre's eyes flicked up to his and he gulped high in his throat again, nodding hastily, he smiled and added: “Oh, good. You know, my mouth is very talented. And not only with my most impressive eloquence... Shall I show you?”

“God, Courfeyrac...”, gasped Combeferre and nodded frantically, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose a little.

Courfeyrac smiled and leaned in, his mouth at the opening of Combeferre's collar again, sucking, nibbling, kissing. Combeferre was shaking, unsure of what to do with his hands. He settled for gently fisting one into Courfeyrac's hair while the other came to rest warm on his waist. Courfeyrac smiled and pushed his knee against Combeferre's legs again, this time making sure to press flush against Combeferre's crotch.

“Oh god, Courf... Courfeyrac...”, panted Combeferre and Courfeyrac couldn't believe how far gone Combeferre already was just from him mentioning his own mouth and what he might do with it. An idea blossomed in his mind and Courfeyrac, between kisses and nibbles, asked against Combeferre's throat: “What are you thinking about?”

“What?”, gasped Combeferre and the hand in his hair tightened a bit as if he feared Courfeyrac might draw away. Courfeyrac rubbed his thigh a little more against Combeferre and he moaned so loud that Courfeyrac was astonished how vocal he could be.

“Are you thinking about what I might do to you with my mouth? My lips?”, asked Courfeyrac, enjoying himself more and more while he felt himself getting hard in his trousers.

“M... maybe...”, stuttered Combeferre and kissed Courfeyrac's temple while Courfeyrac drew his shirt open a little more, not able to tear it off completely because Combeferre was wearing that ridiculously attractive cuirass again.

“Think about how my lips would feel on your thighs...”, breathed Courfeyrac and drew back a little to look at Combeferre whose head had sunken back against the tree, his eyes closed, lips opened over breathless pants, “Think about how they would feel kissing that soft line of hair from your navel to your waistband.”

“Courfeyrac... Oh god, _please_...”, stuttered Combeferre and licked his dry lips, eyes still closed.

Courfeyrac slowly slid down Combeferre's body, taking Combeferre's hand that was resting on his hip in hand to tug towards his mouth. He carefully straightened Combeferre's fingers and took the tip of the index finger between his lips, sucking gently while flicking his tongue over the tip. Combeferre's moans got incredibly loud now and Courfeyrac couldn't believe how hot the thought was that _he_ made Combeferre sound like that.

He fell to his knees while Combeferre sucked in a deep breath, looking down. Courfeyrac smiled up at him and purred: “Did you learn your lesson yet?”

“No!”, gasped Combeferre and stared wide eyed at Courfeyrac kneeling in front of him, his lips red, tiny beads of sweat on his brow, “No I haven't... please, Courfeyrac, don't stop _now_.”

“Your wish is my command...”, smiled Courfeyrac and dropped Combeferre's hand, running his hands up Combeferre's thighs while leaning in and kissing Combeferre's erection through the cloth. Combeferre groaned brokenly and raised a hand to grab his own hair, looking more and more wrecked.

Courfeyrac smiled sweetly and closed his eyes, mouthing away at Combeferre's crotch, spreading his lips further, applying a little tongue, always making sure that Combeferre had an excellent view on what he was doing. He had to pin Combeferre against the tree by his hips by the time he took his lips away because his legs were shaking and his knees buckling more and more.

Looking up at Combeferre through his lashes, Courfeyrac smiled and leaned forward, taking one of the strings of Combeferre's trouser-tyings between his teeth and started tugging slowly while Combeferre gasped: “Holy _fucking_ shit...”

“You definitely need to watch your language, handsome.”, reproached Courfeyrac and took his hands carefully from Combeferre's thighs to open the tying teasingly slow, “It's not a very nice thing to do while I'm being so good to you...”

“Sorry... I'm so... _ungh_...”, groaned Combeferre and trailed off when Courfeyrac tugged the fabric back and drew his trousers and breeches down to his knees.

Combeferre's thighs were shaking under his palms while he ran them carefully up and down, looking up at Combeferre, his lower lip caught between his teeth, smiling enticed. Combeferre was looking down at him, fire and need burning in his dark eyes while his pulse was visibly beating under the tender skin of his throat.

“I'm sorry, but what were you saying?”, teased Courfeyrac and slowly, tentatively licked his lower lip.

“I... I... I meant...”, stuttered Combeferre, his eyes flicking from Courfeyrac's lips to his eyes and back again. Inwardly, Courfeyrac rejoiced about making this eloquently, this intelligent and rhetorically so correct man into a rambling, incoherent mess.

Courfeyrac licked his lips once more and ducked in slowly. His lips brushed over the soft skin of Combeferre's thighs, kissing, sucking and nibbling softly while he made sure his breath tickled Combeferre only in the best places. His lips ghosted everywhere but where Combeferre wanted them to be.

Courfeyrac reached up and pushed the shirt and the cuirass up a little while his lips wandered over Combeferre's hip towards the thin trail of hair, following it down slowly. Combeferre's hand raked through Courfeyrac's hair and tightened only a little. Courfeyrac breathed a moan against Combeferre's skin and got a breathy response from Combeferre.

Courfeyrac looked up from under his lashes. Combeferre's face was red, his brows coated by a thin sheen of sweat, pupils blown wide by lust. His hand in Courfeyrac's hair tightened while he grinned and licked his lips again, slowly nearing Combeferre's crotch where he put an open mouthed, sloppy kiss just next to the base of Combeferre's cock, never breaking their eye contact once.

Combeferre moaned most pitifully and his other hand latched onto Courfeyrac's shoulder, tensing and shaking while he watched Courfeyrac place more kisses in that area only to pull back to Combeferre's thighs. The standing man groaned brokenly and croaked: “Please... please _don't_...”

“What?”, asked Courfeyrac quietly and pinned Combeferre by the hips against the tree as he had started moving towards his face, “What is it, handsome? Do you not like this? Shall I stop?”

“No!”, Combeferre almost barked, “God, please _no_... This is... _ah_... so... _please_...”

“You could just...”, mumbled Courfeyrac, enjoying himself immensely, while he placed another scorching kiss next to the base of Combeferre fully hard cock, “Ask me nicely, you know. Just try and ask...”

“What?”, whined Combeferre, his voice a few octaves higher than usual while his hand on Courfeyrac's shoulder tightened, his eyes wide and unbelieving.

“I'm no monster, handsome.”, grinned Courfeyrac and licked over the damp skin of Combeferre's hipbone, “You can ask me to do anything... As long as it's nicely.”

And that seemed to break down a whole damn inside of Combeferre because he started begging for real, his voice frantic and his hands cupping Courfeyrac's face to make him look at him: “Good lord, please! Please don't stop! Please, Courfeyrac, please go on and... _aaaaaaaaah_...”

Courfeyrac had fled the fond grasp and ducked in, wrapping his lips around the head of Combeferre's cock, making him bang his head back against the tree. Courfeyrac immediately worried that he might have really hurt himself and pulled away again, nearly on his feet immediately.

Combeferre's hand on his shoulder held him down while the other had gone into his neck, keeping him steady. Courfeyrac sighed a little relieved and licked a slow, long line up the shaft of Combeferre's cock whose eyes fluttered closed. His head went back against the tree while Courfeyrac grinned enchanted and ducked in once again.

And definitely: Combeferre was the largest man he had ever been with. Courfeyrac had prided himself with his abilities at giving head but with Combeferre, he got to his limits. But he happily pushed himself further if that meant those delightful, enticing little sounds would continue tumbling out of Combeferre's mouth. The hand on Courfeyrac's shoulder shook and the one in his neck wandered up into his hair, tugging just at the right side of painful while he was being so _loud_.

Courfeyrac dropped one hand from Combeferre's hip to palm himself through his trousers, slowly moving back and suckling at the head while Combeferre moaned his name. He looked up again and god, he was doomed. Combeferre's face was turned towards the sky, his mouth hung open wide, his lower lip trembling while every panting breath of air was coloured by a raw, lustful sound. He would come in his breeches if Combeferre did not shut up anytime soon.

“Courf... oh sweet... _oh good god_... ah... _ah_... Courf!”, gasped Combeferre when Courfeyrac dove in deeper and made his chin slack enough to take Combeferre in deep. There were tears in his eyes and he had to breath deep through the nose in order to stop himself from choking, but the way Combeferre squirmed and moaned was worth it.

Courfeyrac opened his eyes again and looked up to find Combeferre staring down at him, eyes wide, nearly unbelieving, while his hand went down to Courfeyrac's cheek, the cap of his thumb brushing along the side of Courfeyrac's lips. And Courfeyrac swallowed around him.

The moment Combeferre came with Courfeyrac's name on his lips, Courfeyrac's hand on his crotch stilled and he swallowed Combeferre's cum while he climaxed himself. Gasping he let go off Combeferre who collapsed immediately, sliding down the tree to sit totally shaken in front of him, panting, eyes closed, head lolled back.

Courfeyrac wiped his mouth subtly and leaned forward to kiss the corner of Combeferre's lips. He lazily opened his eyes and wrapped a hand into Courfeyrac's hair to kiss him back slowly and relishing. When he drew back, Combeferre sighed: “ _That_ should be illegal.”

“I'm already living with rebels so no harm done in being a little more illegal, don't you think?”, teased Courfeyrac and moved up to sit in Combeferre's lap, wrapping his arms around his neck to kiss him once more.

Their foreheads pressed together, Combeferre's arms wound around Courfeyrac, they broke their kiss for air, looking deep into the eyes of the other. Combeferre cast his eyes down a moment later and mumbled: “I'm sorry...”

“What?”, asked Courfeyrac completely and utterly confused, “What for?”

“That I...”, started Combeferre but seemed to reconsider, “That you did not... I mean... I should have... you know... I feel lazy and selfish...”

“Lazy and selfish?”, repeated Courfeyrac while Combeferre blushed and turned his head away, “Why would you... oh, I see...”

Combeferre blushed even deeper and tried to push Courfeyrac away who just held on tighter and leaned in to whisper breathy against his neck: “If you think I didn't enjoy myself sucking you off, you are so very wrong. Geez, just _listening_ to you nearly got me off. Believe me, I did enjoy this just as much as you did.”

“But you didn't...”, tried Combeferre to chide him but Courfeyrac leaned back and grinned wicked.

“Oh, I did, handsome. I did. In my trousers... like a kid... it sounds really embarrassing when spoken out loud, doesn't it?”, chuckled Courfeyrac and leaned in to kiss Combeferre who still did not seem to be completely convinced. Courfeyrac sighed: “Listen... I really wanted to do this ever since I met you, all right? And just because you did not... well... _actively_ help my orgasm...”

“Courfeyrac...”

“We're all alone in these woods, I think we can skip the part of concealing what we just did... As I said, just because you did not actively satisfy me doesn't mean I am not. Believe me, this was incredible and I would happily do it again and again and _again_ if it meant you will get so loud again!”

Combeferre blushed and rubbed the back of his head, his eyes averted bashful while he shook his head. Squinting at Courfeyrac, he murmured: “I haven't been that loud, have I?”

“You could have woken a bear in its hibernation, to be honest.”, grinned Courfeyrac and brushed his fingers over the shaved back of Combeferre's head.

“Oh good grief...”, groaned Combeferre and Courfeyrac laughed while Combeferre hid his face in the crook of Courfeyrac's neck.

They untangled a moment later, Combeferre stealing glances at Courfeyrac from time to time, a slight blush in his cheeks as Courfeyrac whistled under his breath while shouldering the bag he had brought to collect the herbs for Musichetta.

“So, shall we get some meat for your flying lizards?”, asked Courfeyrac cheerfully and took Combeferre's hand while he rose to his tiptoes to kiss him delicately.

“Say that again while Lamia is around and you might be even shorter than now.”, smiled Combeferre and shook his head at him fondly.

“Ow, that was painful and really unfair... No, don't even think about using that bad pun again!”, warned Courfeyrac smiling while Combeferre closed his mouth again, grinning to himself while they made their way away from the clearing in hope to find some animals.

They were stalking through the undergrowth, not talking for a few moments. But as Combeferre could not find any hints on gamin, he sighed and told Courfeyrac that it would be easiest to find the herbs first before they worried about the feed for the dragons.

“You know...”, groaned Courfeyrac about half an hour later, leaning against a tree while Combeferre hunkered down in the middle of a clearing to cut a few herbs and stuff them into his satchel, “Maybe we should have let Bahorel go look for gamin, he's good at hunting while I'm... mediocre, to say the least.”

“But then we would have been trapped in the cave and you would not haven gotten a taste of me being... loud.”, smiled Combeferre teasingly and winked while Courfeyrac laughed loudly.

“True.”, grinned Courfeyrac and strolled over to where Combeferre had just straightened up to wrap his arms around his waist from behind, “And that would have been a tragedy, truly. What do you think? Do we have enough salad for Chetta and can go back to a little more... enjoyable things like taking a bath in that ridiculously clear pond we passed a few moments ago?”

“You are insatiable, aren't you?”, asked Combeferre and shook his head but Courfeyrac heard in his voice that he was smiling.

“I am young, I am in love, I might be insatiable.”, grinned Courfeyrac and was stunned as Combeferre whirled around to face him, his eyes wide and surprised. Courfeyrac felt like he had done something wrong, so he asked: “What is it? What did I say?”

“Shush!”, made Combeferre and freed himself from Courfeyrac, looking into the dense wood behind him. Courfeyrac stilled and followed his stare, then he heard it as well. The fast beating of hooves and the voices of men, laughing and joking roughly. Courfeyrac's heart froze while he recognized one of the barking laughs.

“Oh no...”, he groaned while Combeferre turned to him. Courfeyrac stepped to him and grabbed his arm, staring up at him intently, “You need to go!”

“What?”, asked Combeferre stunned, “I won't leave you.”

“Combeferre!”, demanded Courfeyrac and pushed him a little towards the woods, “Those are not mere merchants or travelling folk. I know these voices, I know who these men are. It's the war band we tried to shake off. You need to get out of here, Combeferre!”

“If it's them, I will not leave your side.”, declared Combeferre and drew the crossbow from his shoulder.

“You must!”, demanded Courfeyrac, pushing Combeferre again, “If they find you, they will not ask questions. You'll be killed right away. No, you need to go! Go and warn the others! I'll troll them off.”

“Come with me!”, demanded Combeferre and grabbed Courfeyrac's hand while the beating of hooves came closer, accompanied by the sound of splintering wood, “You don't need to stay. We'll flee.”

Courfeyrac heard a warning shout, close by, and knew that a sentinel had seen them. He stepped towards Combeferre and kissed him hard, then he pushed him again while ordering: “No, too late. Go, I'll troll them off. Don't make me ask you again.”

“Courfeyrac, I will not leave you!”, declared Combeferre hard and glared at the smaller man.

Courfeyrac groaned unhappy and drew his sword, pointing it at Combeferre's throat while he ordered: “Leave now, Combeferre. We don't have time. Please, do not force me to use this against you.”

“Courfeyrac...”

“Go!”, shouted Courfeyrac and swung his sword half-heartedly. Combeferre backed a step away, knowing that Courfeyrac would never do anything to him. Finally he obliged and turned away, seeking his safety in flight. Courfeyrac watched him go, praying to every deity he knew that there would be no second sentinel in the wood who would catch Combeferre.

He turned and spurted off into the other direction, hearing the horses break through the undergrowth just metres next to him. Men were shouting while he broke through a narrow hedge of brambles: they had seen him. Courfeyrac's heart was racing and his breath came in sharp blows while he tried to outrun the horses. He heard a well known voice bark commands and turned to look over his shoulder.

Four men on horse back came up behind him... fast, too fast. Only four?

Before he had finished that thought, a whistling sound caught his attention and something wrapped around his ankles, felling him in the middle of another clearing that he had wished to cross in order to dive into the deep undergrowth on its far side that would hinder the horses from pursuing him.

The impact with the ground knocked the air out of him and he felt a stone drill into his ribcage. He pushed himself up on his hands a moment later and turned to look what had felled him. A leather bola with stone orbs at the ends was wrapped tightly around his ankles, hindering him from escaping his pursuers who were slowly coming onto the clearing now while Courfeyrac unwrapped the bola from his legs.

Now that he was not fleeing anymore, the different parties who had been after him came to assemble on the clearing. A quick count showed him that almost forty men built a loose circle around him now, most of which he knew at least from sight. When he had loosened the bola and was able to get to his feet again – saving the remains of his dignity – a pale young man in black leather slipped from a glossy, black stallion and tossed the reigns to one of his companions. He was handsome and wore a silver earring while his silver spurs clinked melodically with every step he took.

“Well, well, well...”, he grinned and looked even more handsome while he peeled tight leather gloves from his hands, “Look who we found. Courfeyrac, First Hunter of the realm and whipping boy to his majesty Marius the First fleeing through the woods like a scared deer. Aren't you happy to see us, my friend?”

“I've never been happier to see you, Montparnasse. I truly missed your sly little face.”, grit Courfeyrac out before smiling bitterly, “But tell me, what kind of behaviour is this to fell me like a common criminal?”

Montparnasse threw his head into his neck and laughed amused, tossing his gloves to a man behind him while a few others had dismounted as well. Courfeyrac tried to watch all of them at once, aware of the danger he was in.

“Are you doubting my manners, Courfeyrac?”, asked Montparnasse light-heartedly while bile rose in Courfeyrac's throat about not being addressed properly. But he would not grant Montparnasse the satisfaction to show him his place.

“I doubt that you ever had any, Parnasse.”, retorted Courfeyrac coolly and watched satisfied how Montparnasse's face darkened.

“The more dubious is”, started Montparnasse in a gloomy voice, strolling back and forth in front of Courfeyrac, his hands folded on his back, “why you have been running through the woods like a criminal, fleeing from the men you should side with.”

“You could have been anyone.”, retorted Courfeyrac composed, crossing his arms, “These parts of the lands are crawling with rebels and rouges. I could have been in danger.”

“In danger, aha.”, said Montparnasse and stopped in his pacing, “You mean rebels and rouges that are wearing the leather armoury you are wearing in right this moment?!”

Courfeyrac felt himself pale and knew that Montparnasse was referring to the boots and the leather trousers that were so far from fashionable that he would have never worn them back in the capital. And he knew that Montparnasse had recognized them from the prisoners they had taken a few times in the past. He was lacking an explanation to why he was wearing them. And he was absolutely thankful that Jehan had not been able to finish the cuirass for him otherwise he would have even more to explain.

Hands came up from behind him and Courfeyrac struggled against the grip on his upper arms. He knew the men grinning at him now: Clasquesous and Babet, vicious, vile men without any morals. And for that matter the left and right hand of Montparnasse. He snarled at Clasquesous who just grinned mean, twisting his arm back roughly. Courfeyrac did not grant him the favour of screaming.

“You are making a mistake.”, warned Courfeyrac, turning to Montparnasse again, “I have been looking for Marius when you hunted me down. I have done nothing wrong!”

“And you think I believe just one word you said?”, asked Montparnasse condescending and snorted, “You have been missing for a month, Courfeyrac. Why did you not come back to the castle after his majesty had been abducted? Why did you not call for help on your search? Why aren't you wearing your uniform anymore? Can you answer me just one of these questions?”

Courfeyrac scowled at Montparnasse and decided to keep silent. A slow smile crept onto Montparnasse's features while he drew a small, artful dagger from a sheath at his waist and stepped up to Courfeyrac. He raised the dagger and placed the tip against the corner of Courfeyrac's right eye, smiling cruelly and digging the tip in just to draw blood. Courfeyrac did not flinch.

“Very well...”, grinned Montparnasse and dropped his voice to a whisper, “If you can not answer those questions, maybe you can answer this one: would you be very sorry if my sentinels caught your little friend and hacked him to pieces?”

Courfeyrac's eyes widened involuntarily and sweat poured down his back. Clasquesous and Babet chuckled cruelly while Montparnasse just smiled.

“You thought we did not see him, didn't you?”, he asked in a whisper and shifted the dagger, running it down to Courfeyrac's lips where he placed the tip in the centre of his lower lip, just pushing ever so slightly until Courfeyrac tasted blood, “Your little catamite was not lost to us and your very moving performance of the knight in shining armour was really cute, I have to tell you. I hope my boys have found him by now, it will be very amusing to watch you while we skin him alive...”

Courfeyrac strained against the hands grasping him and spat into Montparnasse's face. Babet twisted his arm most painfully while Clasquesous punched Courfeyrac in the guts. Groaning Courfeyrac broke to his knees. Montparnasse dug his fingers into his hair and yanked his head up while he grinned down at him, his cherry lips and the pale blue eyes beautiful and a stark contrast to the darkness that evaporated from him.

“It was a mistake, First Hunter, to side with that rebel scum!”, gloated Montparnasse and pulled at his hair a little more until tears were welling up in Courfeyrac's eyes, “General Javert was right about you. You are an infantile, disloyal, arrogant and stupid loudmouth.”

“Funny.”, snarled Courfeyrac, “One could think you are talking about yourself!”

The backhand slap that Montparnasse gave him yanked his head to the side and made his neck crack. So the pleasantries were over. Courfeyrac raised his head again and glared at Montparnasse whose cool exterior showed a few cracks. His nostrils were flaring from anger while he struggled to keep it out of his eyes. Courfeyrac could not hinder himself from grinning challenging at him.

Montparnasse backed a step away while Clasquesous and Babet held Courfeyrac on the ground. He eyed the First Hunter coolly for a moment, then he turned to the waiting men to announce: “Men, we have found the traitor who sold our beloved prince to the rebels. On the orders of General Javert we will bring him back to the castle immediately for further interrogation. The rear guard will continue the search for the rebel party close by. You have the allowance of his Majesty the King to use any force needed to arrest them. And, to be honest with you, I will be everyone's guarantee if you by accident killed one of those scumbags!”

The troops laughed and Courfeyrac's heart froze over. Montparnasse turned to him and smiled cruelly before he stepped to him to hunker down. He glared at him for a moment, then he looked up at Clasquesous and ordered: “You go with Gueulemer and the rear guard and make sure to catch those filthy criminals. And make sure the four-eyes survives. It will be my very own pleasure to take him apart bit by bit while our First Hunter is watching...”

Rage pulsed up through Courfeyrac and he tried to hurl himself at Montparnasse. He had not even made an inch progress when the handle of a sword collided with the back of his neck and everything around him went pitch black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all: sorry for the delay in posting! It's still Sunday at my place (although only 40 minutes of it are left ;D) but I had a busy day...
> 
> Second of all: rather short and uneventful chapter, I'm also sorry for that. But it was needed to bridge the gap to the second major plot-part that's going to start with chapter 7 (next week, Sunday, earlier than today, I promise). Hope you're not too disappointed...


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** WARNING *****
> 
> This chapter contains very, very graphic depiction of violence and brutality and may be triggering. So please be careful while reading this!!!

The scream ricochetted off the wall and made his ears ring, the pain in his head increasing until he could not even feel the vicious burn on his skin anymore. The smell of burning flesh filled his nose and made him retch when his voice died away and his throat felt sore. The pressure subsided and he slumped down.

The shackles dug into his wrists and his shoulders felt like popping out any second but he did not mind while he dangled a little from left to right, trying to catch his breath. His ears were fuzzy and he could nearly not see anything in the dungeon while the blood kept cursing through his body, spreading the pain into every corner of his being.

“One more time...”, sighed Montparnasse and had the nerve to sound bored, “Where are the rebels hiding?”

Courfeyrac raised his head slowly, staring at Montparnasse through one eye, the other was blue and swollen shut and pulsing with pain in the rhythm of his heartbeat. His lip was split and also swollen so that his words sounded muffled and slurred as he chocked out: “Go t'hell!”

Babet hit him with the iron rod they had used to brand him into the stomach and Courfeyrac hissed in pain, biting down on his lip to hinder himself from cursing. Of course Babet had not missed the burnt area and of course the still glowing tip had dug itself into his other side, burning him there slightly as well.

“Don't play the hero, Courfeyrac.”, sighed Montparnasse and stepped to the table at the side, picking up the dagger that had once belonged to Courfeyrac, a ceremonial weapon ornamented with gold and jewels, “It will get you nowhere. We know you know where they hide. We know that they still have the prince. And if you tell us, you might only get to spend some time in the dungeons and then return to the military – as a simple footsoldier, of course. Just tell us where they are.”

He turned to Courfeyrac and started cleaning out his nails with the slender blade. He still looked bored and Courfeyrac knew that it was all facade. He saw the slight tremble of Montparnasse's nostrils and the furrow between his brows. He was loosing his temper.

Courfeyrac straightened a little and shook the hair out of his eyes to look at the other soldier. Then he took a deep breath and asked: “Do you ever get tired of lying to people, Parnasse?”

“I could easily add insult of officials to the list of criminal acts you have committed against the realm for those words!”, threatened Montparnasse cold and stepped to Courfeyrac, clawing his fingers into Courfeyrac's hair to yank his head back.

“You could if insulting you really meant insulting a person of _importance_.”, grinned Courfeyrac and felt the gash in his lips stretch painfully, but the infuriated expression in Montparnasse's eyes was enough to make him forget his discomfort.

Montparnasse did not reply anything but raised the dagger and placed the tip next to his eyelid as he had done on the clearing. But this time he did not leave it at that. Slowly, with a precision that was terrifying, Montparnasse dug the tip into Courfeyrac's flesh and started following the line of his eye-socked down along his cheekbone and cut down to where his nostril was joined with his cheek. Courfeyrac squared his jaw hard until he was afraid his teeth would burst under the pressure in favour of not granting the satisfaction of whimpering in pain to Montparnasse.

“Where. Are. The. Rebels?”, grunted Montparnasse while doing so, glaring down at Courfeyrac whose eyes twitched with the sensation of the blade ploughing through his skin and leaving a thudding, deep cut that would leave a scar – if Courfeyrac survived this. “Tell me.”, snarled Montparnasse and angled the blade just a little, digging the tip in deeper, “I swear, if you not tell me right away...”

“Enough.”, said a sharp voice and Courfeyrac looked up.

Javert had gotten up from the stool by the dungeon door and stepped forward, Montparnasse backing away obedient while Javert shot him a sour look. He did not like the young man, Courfeyrac knew that, but he had to rely on him if he wished to accomplish anything in the realm and Javert loathed the thought. He seemed pale in the flickering light of the sole torch in the room, his face hard but his eyes in a turmoil of thoughts and feelings that Courfeyrac could not decipher.

Now Javert stepped in front of Courfeyrac and stared down at him while Courfeyrac struggled to stabilize himself and stand up. Javert waited and Courfeyrac felt an illogical gratitude about that as Javert seemed to pay attention to the last remains of Courfeyrac's pride.

When Courfeyrac stood – wobbly and mainly held up by the chains – he raised his head to look Javert right in the eyes and spat: “What? You're going to kill me now?”

“We are no barbarians, First Hunter.”, informed Javert Courfeyrac and still would not stop to use his official title, the mockery in that making bile rise in Courfeyrac's throat, “We are not like your little friends.”

“Enjolras would never torture an innocent man!”, snapped Courfeyrac and gathered spittle and blood in his mouth to spit into Javert's face. The older man wiped it away with the cuff of his uniform before looking back at Courfeyrac, assessing and somehow regretting. The thought that Javert might regret what happened to Courfeyrac in this cell was somehow mind-blowing and Courfeyrac wondered if his pain-tormented brain was mocking him.

“Innocent?”, asked Javert and cocked his head slowly, raising his truncheon to raise Courfeyrac's head further by placing the weapon under his chin, “So you are still sticking to that fairy tail about you having searched for the prince all those weeks?”

“I will not say one more word. Kill me, if you like, but I will never betray my friends!”, snarled Courfeyrac.

Javert dropped his truncheon and scrutinized Courfeyrac for a long moment in which Courfeyrac was glimpsing something that he would have declared to be pity if Javert had not the reputation to be as hard and cold as granite. Javert stepped back and shook his head, huffing angrily while turning to Montparnasse.

“I allow you a free hand now, sergeant Montparnasse.”, snapped Javert before yanking the door open. He was half out of the dungeon when he hesitated and turned around, instructing Montparnasse: “I want to know where those bastards are by evening. I don't care how you'll make him talk. Just... make him talk.”

The door closed with a dull, echoing sound behind the older man and Courfeyrac could not help but start shaking. Montparnasse turned to him again slowly, grinning at Babet who stood waiting next to the table. He returned the sly grin and made Courfeyrac gulp afraid. When he had thought the torture had been bad as long as Javert had been present, he feared that he soon wished they would return to those methods.

“Did you hear that, Babet?”, asked Montparnasse and twirled the dagger in both hands while stepping to Courfeyrac, “We're finally allowed to have some _fun_ with that piece of shit.”

“Aye...”, laughed Babet while Montparnasse's hand shot forward.

Courfeyrac groaned in pain when the dagger was buried in the muscles of his right shoulder. It was a carefully aimed strike, Courfeyrac had to admit. The blade stuck hilt-deep in his shoulder but only injured muscles, tissue and maybe some ligaments. The major arteries were unharmed which meant that Courfeyrac would not loose much blood. As painful as the wound was, it would not kill him – not right away, at least.

Babet laughed while Montparnasse let go the dagger and flicked the handle a little, making Courfeyrac jolt from pain. But Courfeyrac ground his teeth again and took calming breaths through his nose, willing himself not to scream from pain or show any sign of it. He would not break, he would stay strong – for his friends... for Combeferre.

“So, shall we begin from the top?”, asked Montparnasse and Courfeyrac glared vile at him while he stepped to the table with the torture supplies, picking up a pair of pliers to study the metal instrument intently, “Where are the rebels?”

“Go fuck yourself!”, snarled Courfeyrac.

Babet grinned at Montparnasse who stepped to Courfeyrac and uncurled the fingers of his left hand. With deliberate carefulness he closed the tips of the pliers around the nail on Courfeyrac's forefinger and hesitated, looking at Courfeyrac with a mocking grin while he asked: “Do you want to reconsider your prior statement?”

Courfeyrac just scowled at Montparnasse who sighed heavily, pretending to be heartbroken while he murmured: “That's too bad.”

He yanked his hand back and Courfeyrac screamed, unable to keep quiet anymore.

Courfeyrac would later not remember much about that hour in the dungeons deep under the castle. He would remember nothing but the blinding pain, the pulsing pain, the biting, burning, tearing and ripping pain of the torture of Montparnasse and Babet. He would remember nothing but the biting smell of burning flesh, of blood and sweat and excrements.

He was hanging limply in the chains, panting heavily while Montparnasse had grabbed the dagger – still in his shoulder – and angled it this and that way. The wound made disgusting, wet noises while thick, half dried blood stuck to the skin and blade, fresh blood and lymph oozing out of his flesh.

“I think I'm repeating myself here.”, grinned Montparnasse and slowly pushed the hilt to the left, the blade ripping through flesh and muscles while Courfeyrac panted, his vision failing him, his hearing muffled and his heart pounding in his throat.

Montparnasse had mastered the art of torturing in a way that was cruel. He managed to never let his victim fall unconscious and had his ways of fighting back a faint whenever he saw it approaching. And that was why Courfeyrac had not been granted the relief of blacking out just once. Montparnasse angled the blade again.

“Just in case you did not hear me the first hundred times: Where do your rebel friends hide?”

Courfeyrac let his head drop, he was too exhausted to speak. Montparnasse groaned and ripped the blade out of the wound. Courfeyrac could not even wince anymore. He heard steps in the dungeon, heard Montparnasse move to the table where he inspected the instruments thoroughly.

Courfeyrac was feeling numb all over, the clouds of numbness only penetrated by sudden flares of pains, sudden sharp jolts, reminders about how battered Courfeyrac was. But he had not let any information slip. He had protected his friends and had guaranteed their safety. And by this point, Courfeyrac would die to save them. He would luckily give his life under Montparnasse's hands if that meant that they would escape. That they would live in freedom and peace... that Combeferre would be save.

“Babet...”, mused Montparnasse slowly and turned to his companion, “What do you say? According to the reputation of our beloved First Hunter, what is the body part that he most values?”

Courfeyrac's head lolled to the side and he caught a glance at the two men. Babet really seemed to think hard about that question and Courfeyrac was sure that that was no show. He really had to think hard. But knowing Montparnasse, Courfeyrac already suspected what he referred to.

“His... right hand?”, asked Babet and put a long sword into the flames of the small fire next to the table.

“Well...”, laughed Montparnasse and wiped away an imaginary tear, “That too... I guess you can work wonders with those nimble fingers of yours. But no, Babet, I wasn't referring to his hand. I was thinking a bit lower... well, a _lot_ lower!”

Babet started grinning while Courfeyrac shivered. Montparnasse stepped to him and cut the strings of the woollen trousers he was wearing, the fabric sliding lower on his waist while the black-haired man grinned cruelly at him. Babet drew the sword out of the flames and handed it to Montparnasse.

“So...”, smiled Montparnasse and dipped the glowing sword blade onto Courfeyrac's shoulder where the metal burnt him briefly to demonstrate how very hot it was, “Unless you want to sing like a choirboy for the rest of your life, you should better start talking _now_.”

Courfeyrac glared up at him, grinding his teeth and trying to steady himself for what was to come. He would not scream, not this time. He would not give Montparnasse the satisfaction of carving in. His fingers curled towards his palms and the remaining two fingernails on his right hand dug crescent marks into his palms.

While Montparnasse was still grinning, grabbing for Courfeyrac's trousers to yank them down, Courfeyrac heard steps on the hallway and angry voices. A moment later, the door to the dungeon burst open and a well known voice boomed: “Stop this madness at _once_!”

Courfeyrac whimpered in relief and collapsed into the support of the chains, tears starting to burn in his eyes and on the cuts in his face while Marius' grandfather strode into the dungeon, glaring daggers at Montparnasse while he and Babet fell to their knees. Four guards piled into the narrow cell, staring threatening at the men kneeling on the ground, spears ready.

“Oh sweet Lord!”, gasped the king and came towards Courfeyrac, cupping his cheek tenderly while he whispered, “My dear boy, I am _so_ sorry.”

Courfeyrac pressed his cheek into the warm palm, ignoring the sting of the long wound on his cheek and shook his head desperately. The king pressed his lips into a narrow line, then he whirled around and ordered harsh: “Free him _immediately_ and take him to my quarters.”

“But my Liege!”, protested Montparnasse, still kneeling in the rotten straw.

“Shut your mouth, sergeant.”, barked the king and whirled to one of his guards, “And lock these two men up until I decide how to punish such cruelties!”

“We were instructed by Javert himself.”, protested Babet while the shackles on Courfeyrac's wrists clicked softly and one guard caught him while his legs gave way, his arms falling down useless at his sides.

Two guards propped Courfeyrac up and guided him towards the exit of the dungeon while he half-heartedly listened to the protest by Montparnasse and Babet and the angry words of the king that brooked no argument.

In a blur of lights and pain Courfeyrac was escorted to the king's rooms and was sat down in a soft cushioned chair by the window, the king with him in an instant. He seemed worried, his grey eyes concerned and deep furrows on his forehead and between his brows.

“Get the physician here and send for my personal healer to come _at once_.”, ordered the king over his shoulder and two guards hurried away while Courfeyrac groaned as the king palpated the cut on his cheekbone. The king cast a glance over his shoulder and ordered the remaining two guards: “Wait outside.”

“My king...”, moaned Courfeyrac and wanted to push his hands away, not used to so much attention by the old man who had always been friendly but never affectionate.

“Shush!”, soothed Marius' grandfather and grabbed a glass on the side-table, handing it to Courfeyrac, “Drink something and then we'll talk. I am so sorry for what they've done to you. If I had known, I would have interfered earlier.”

Courfeyrac brought the glass down with shaking fingers, leaving bloody trails on the crystal clear surface while he murmured through the swollen lips: “This was not your fault, your majesty.”

“It happened in my realm, therefore it is.”, soothed the king and brushed a few curls out of Courfeyrac's eyes, “I will never forgive myself for what they've done. You've been a strong and brave man, my son, and I am so proud of you.”

Warmth flooded through Courfeyrac's body while Marius' grandfather smiled fondly at him. He had always been his mentor and guardian, but being called _my son_ by Marius' grandfather felt so good, so reassuring and so safety-promising that Courfeyrac could not help but feel happy about it. The small smile that twisted his lips made the pain flare up again and he coughed.

“Be calm.”, ordered the king softly and patted his knee fondly, “You're hurt severely. You should rest. Maybe we can talk later about how we are going to find my poor Marius.”

Courfeyrac, who had taken a small sip of his water again, glanced up and saw sorrow and fears in the king's grey eyes while he tried to hide them by looking away. Courfeyrac gulped and put the glass down slowly, trying to reassure: “Marius is fine, your majesty. You don't need to worry.”

“I don't need to worry?”, huffed the old man and got to his feet surprisingly quickly, rubbing at his eyes, “How can you say that, Courfeyrac? First both of you disappear without a word, without a trace. Then we learn that those _savages_ have kidnapped the both of you. Then I find out that you have been arrested and tortured without my knowing. I haven't slept for _weeks_ of fear for my two boys. And now that I have found and rescued you, I still do not know what happened to my poor Marius!”

“Marius is fine, please believe me.”, tried Courfeyrac to sooth the old man, still feeling tired and weak but also concerned for the king who paced in front of him, “The rebels... my friends... they would never do anything to him. He likes living with them. They are good men, my king, they really are.”

“What?”, asked the king and stopped, looking startled at Courfeyrac who put the glass down, “Good men? They have _dragons_!"

“Dragons are no danger.”, insisted Courfeyrac and hurried to say more because Marius' grandfather had already opened his mouth to protest, “Really, my king, please believe me. I have seen it with my own eyes. They are no threat. They only try to find their partners in life. It is complicated and I am afraid I can not explain it half as good as Jehan or Bousset can. But please, your majesty, you need to believe me. The scholars are wrong, the dragons are no danger!”

“But... but I don't understand...”, grumbled the king and rubbed his chin, glaring out of the window in confusion.

“The rebels know the truth, they know how to handle dragons. That's why they oppose the forces of the realm. That's why they keep fighting your troops.”, declared Courfeyrac and pushed himself up to sit straighter, pain shooting through his whole body like a knife, “If you could just talk to them, see their side of things... _listen_ to them. We could spare the realm so much trouble and danger. The public could learn how to handle dragons and we could live in peace.”

“Courfeyrac, my boy, don't you think you are hallucinating?!”, asked the king gently and patted Courfeyrac's hand that had wrapped around the king's lower arm in an attempt to make him see.

“No, your majesty!”, urged Courfeyrac, glaring intently at the king, “Marius and I have seen them... we have seen the dragons and the rebels with our own eyes and they saved me. They were good to us and tried to make us see. And they did, your majesty, they did. If you could only talk to them...”

“Do you think they... would _want_ to talk?”, asked Marius' grandfather reluctantly and pealed Courfeyrac's hand from his sleeve, screwing his face up in regret when he saw the missing fingernails of his left hand, before he took Courfeyrac's hand between his own.

“Enjolras would love to!”, blurted Courfeyrac, hope blossoming in his constricted and tight chest, his eyes starting to gleam while the king looked at him assessing, “And I think you would learn so much of each other. Just let me go and I'll tell them what you said.”

“You are too weak, my son, I would not want you to overexert yourself.”, cooed the king and pushed a hand through Courfeyrac's sweaty curls, smiling gently, “Tell me where they are staying and I will send a messenger to them. We will arrange for a meeting...”

“There is no time.”, declared Courfeyrac intently, “It's been too long that we lived alongside each other without understanding. Please, your majesty, let me go to them. Just give me a horse and I could be with them in...”

“No, Courfeyrac.”, said the king sternly and pushed him back into the chair, patting his uninjured shoulder with a careful smile on his features, “This is too dangerous. I will not risk your life. Not after what you've gone through for this kingdom.”

“Then send a messenger.”, sighed Courfeyrac who saw the tender fondness in the king's eyes and smiled back when the king smirked relieved.

“Very well, my son...”, the king murmured and pushed his hand again through Courfeyrac's curls, kissing his forehead affectionately, “What do I need to tell the messenger? Where do I need to send him?”

“Tell him that he should take a white flag, they know and respect that meaning. Send him alone and unarmed. Send him to the mountain ridge at the north-eastern boarder. There is a mountain lake beneath a small fern wood. There is an entrance there. Make him wait at the shore, they will spot him soon enough. Tell him to ask for Enjolras and tell him that he should say I sent him and that I am all right and that I talked to the king. Send one of the men Marius knows. They will believe him.”

“Did you hear all that?”, asked the king gently and smiled at Courfeyrac.

The young man blinked puzzled while the king straightened and turned to the door in Courfeyrac's back. Before he could inquire what the question meant, another voice answered: “Every word, my Lord.”

Courfeyrac's blood froze as he turned in his chair, his wounds and muscles aching with the movement. Javert stood in the doorway, eight guards at his sides. He glared intently at Courfeyrac, his eyes cold and measured, the hard line of his mouth still resembling something like pity. Courfeyrac whirled to the king again.

“What...?”, he gasped, the truth slowly settling in.

“You heard him.”, repeated the king, choosing to ignore the First Hunter who was trembling with fear and panic now, “I want you to send two hundred men to the north-eastern boarders. Travel at night, they won't see you approach. Take the mountain in storm, kill the dragons. Bring the rebels here. We will make an example of them!”

“No!”, shouted Courfeyrac and struggled to his feet, guards holding him back from hurling himself at the king, tears of rage burning on his cheeks and the building lump of disappointment in his throat making breathing difficult as he shouted: “You _fucking_ liar!”

“What about Courfeyrac, my Lord?”, asked Javert and nodded with his chin towards Courfeyrac while two of his men left the chamber.

“Take him back to the dungeons.”, ordered the king cold, “Treat his wounds and keep him grounded until the rebels are defeated.”

“And afterwards?”, asked Javert a little reluctantly while the king poured himself some wine, ignoring the throttled sobs that sprang from Courfeyrac's chapped lips violently now.

“One of your men is to bring him to the boarder of the realm. He's to go into exile and never to return to our realm.”, sentenced the king and emptied his goblet while Courfeyrac screamed like a wounded animal, panic making the pain in his body even sharper, the sting of betrayal in his heart burning worse than any flame root poisoning.

The guards dragged him out, fighting against his flailing, accompanied by begging and shouting. But they turned their ears deaf and their hearts into stone while Courfeyrac addressed them all by name, knowing them for years. Now they treated him like a stranger.

 

:<∙>:

 

Drip.

Drip.

Drip drip.

Drip.

Courfeyrac's head was leaning against the cold stonewall in his back. He was counting his heartbeat in lieu of anything else to do because counting the unsteady drops of water that echoed through his cell had made him weary. And it was easier to concentrate on anything else than to face what his blabbering had condemned his friends to. It was easier to count than to acknowledge that Courfeyrac had failed them... had failed Combeferre.

Three-thousand fife-hundred two.

Three-thousand fife-hundred three.

Three-thousand fife-hundred four.

A new noise mingled with the dripping silence of the lowest floor of the dungeons. Courfeyrac raised his head and pricked his ears a little. There was a cry wavering through the air, a cry much different from the breathless screeches of the unfortunate ones in the chamber of the torturer. This cry was like nothing Courfeyrac had ever heard. It was inhumane, it was raw and broken. It was a sound of utter despair and agony. Courfeyrac shivered and got up, stretching his stiff limbs while strolling towards the bars.

He leaned against them, trying to find out what it was that was making those sounds when several doors snapped shot a few levels over his head. The sound died off and Courfeyrac huffed, already intent to return to his little batch of straw in the corner, when the flickering of a torch at the entrance of the hallway caught his attention.

It was not time for his dinner yet and no one had come down here for two days since he had been arrested here. No one but the physician who had treated his wounds twice and had given him some poppy seed to dull his pain. All the cells on this floor were empty safe for his so there were no guards to come look for other prisoners. This was indeed curious.

Four figures got outlined against the darkness, slowly and only tinged in flickering lights. Courfeyrac pressed his temple against the bars to see better, narrowing his eyes down to see further – without effect, though.

“No... let _go_...”, snarled a voice that sent shivers down Courfeyrac's back, his hands curling around the rusty bars while he gasped.

He could see now, could see that there were three soldiers, two of them grabbing a fourth person, a lithe person with longish, tussled hair and a black eye. He was struggling against the hands on his upper arms, cursing the soldiers like a sailor.

“Jehan!”, called Courfeyrac and could not decide whether he should laugh or cry about seeing his friend.

Jehan's head snapped up, his eyes fixated on Courfeyrac's shadowy figure a few strides in front of him and his jaw went slack. He managed to free himself and hurried to the bars, grasping Courfeyrac's hands in his while he muttered: “Courfeyrac! Courfeyrac, oh thank goodness you are alive! You look dreadful, what have they done to you? Oh good god, I am so happy to see you!”

“Jehan... Jehan...”, was the only thing Courfeyrac managed to croak through his dry throat, pawing at Jehan's hands and cheek in utter despair as the soldiers caught up with their fleeing prisoner.

Courfeyrac knew two of them, they had been in training with him and so as they caught up with him and grasped Jehan's shoulders, Courfeyrac was able to startle them by addressing them and begging them to let him talk to Jehan. Confused, the men dropped their hands while their superior barked at them to continue.

“I did not sell you out!”, chocked Courfeyrac who felt tears burning in his eyes, yearning to tell Jehan that he did not betray them.

“I know.”, sighed Jehan and cupped Courfeyrac's cheek through the bars, “We all do, Courfeyrac.”

“Seize him!”, roared the officer and the men reluctantly took a hold of Jehan again.

“Is everyone all right? What about the dragons?!”, called Courfeyrac while they dragged Jehan off him, the lithe man struggling against the guards.

“They are all fine... but Syrah... She...”, stuttered Jehan and Courfeyrac suddenly understood. He understood why that cry had been so disturbing because it had been familiar. Grantaire...

“Jehan!”, called Courfeyrac panicking while Jehan and the guards vanished from his sight, “No, leave him alone, you bastards!”

“It's all right, Courfeyrac!”, called Jehan's voice out of the dark while Courfeyrac heard him struggling against the guards, “Don't worry about us, we've been through worse!”

And if the situation had not been as dangerous as it was, Courfeyrac would have laughed about that statement. But with him locked up here, his wounds barely treated and still aching from time to time, with one of his best friends dragged off into the darkness of the dungeons and the knowledge that Grantaire suffered because of _him_ , Courfeyrac felt tears tighten his throat.

He bashed his hands against the bars so that the metal rung and screamed frustrated. He had been so stupid, so stupid and careless. He had trusted the man he had thought of like a father. He had trusted the king who had given the order to kill every last dragon in the realm without once wondering what might have caused his change of mind. He had condemned his friends to death, he was certain about that. And he had caused the death of Grantaire's dragon.

Somewhere above him, the cells were filled with the people he had grown so fond of. Jehan had had a black eye. Courfeyrac knew that he would have been guarded by Bahorel and Feuilly and suspected that they looked worse. He knew how distressed Enjolras must be, firstly because he felt responsible for all of his friends, secondly because Grantaire was most likely mad with grief and pain.

Courfeyrac's thoughts wandered to Combeferre and his knuckles turned white around the bars. They had Combeferre. They had him locked up, had probably beaten him, had hurt him and would hurt him further. The fury that burned in Courfeyrac about that thought was enough to even frighten him.

A truncheon collided with the bars and Courfeyrac tumbled a step back. The guards passed his cell again after they had locked up Jehan. The officer glared at Courfeyrac and snarled: “Quiet, scum!”

“How do you sleep at night if you lock up people like him?”, snarled Courfeyrac and stepped forward again.

“In the knowledge to save the realm.”, retorted the guard and looked towards the entrance of the hallway where Courfeyrac heard steps again. A moment later, he backed away and another guard came into Courfeyrac's field of view. No, not a guard. It was...

“Javert!”, growled Courfeyrac between grit teeth and clawed his hands around the bars, “I swear to you, if you did _anything_ to them...”

“My men and I did nothing but arrest those criminals. The king will decide their future.”, said Javert stiffly and nodded to one of his companions who started fiddling with a ring of keys.

“You mean the king will announce their execution as soon as the news spread that the rebels are caught?”, growled Courfeyrac.

“The documents are already written and their execution will take place three days from now. On Sunday, as part of the celebrations about the save return of the Prince.”, declared Javert coolly.

“Marius will never allow this.”, snarled Courfeyrac and fixated Javert with the deathliest glare he had ever given another human being on this earth.

“He must, if he wants to save the hide of that little rebel girl he's so besotted with.”, explained Javert annoyed and thumped his truncheon against the bars again as the guard had unlocked the door, “Get back!”

Courfeyrac remained where he was, glaring at Javert furiously. The commander of the troops glared back in return while two guards crowded into the cell, backing Courfeyrac against the far wall, turning him around and pressing him into the cold stonewall, securing his wrists behind his back with shackles. When they were done, one of them kept Courfeyrac pressed to the wall while he heard Javert step into the cell.

When the older man stood directly next to Courfeyrac, he leaned forward to hiss into his ear: “It was my suggestion to execute you with them. To kill you with that scum you sided with against your kingdom. But the Prince... he convinced his majesty to spare your pathetic life. So instead your sentence is exile. But I dare you... fight me, my men or anyone and I will have a knife shoved down your throat without second thoughts!”

Courfeyrac strained against the guard, craning his neck to spit into Javert's smug face. The commander stepped back, wiping the spit off his cheek before ordering the guards: “Take him out to the court. The escort will wait there. Make sure he doesn't get in contact with anyone on the way.”

“Why? Because everyone knows that I am innocent?!”, spat Courfeyrac and struggled again. The answer he received was a blow from Javert's truncheon that hurled his skull against the wall, a muffling blackness seeping into his conciousness before he collapsed into the arms of the guard behind him.

 

:<∙>:

 

There was a brownish, soft light in the field of his vision when he opened his eyes again. He lay over a rocking, warm body – a horse? – and heard the sound of hooves, the mumble of conversations and the chirping of birds. He turned his head to the side, every step of the horse knocking up against his ribcage as he was bound onto the back of the animal like a sack of grain.

With the sack over his head, it was impossible to make out his surrounding. Judging from the sounds around Courfeyrac, they were either in or close to a wood, the whisper of the wind in leaves above him while dry twigs broke beneath the hooves of the horses.

Exile. His sentence had been exile. Logically, he would be brought into the woods around the place where the rebels had hidden from the war band, where Courfeyrac had been caught three days ago. They would watch him until he had crossed into the other realm and there Courfeyrac would be hunted again as an enemy from this realm.

But Courfeyrac would not leave. He would not leave this realm because there were people who depended on him. Marius was held hostage and was pressed into obedience because his grandfather held Cosette as a means of pressuring him. The rebels were sentenced to death and would only live two more days if Courfeyrac found no way to free them. And the people of this realm still deserved the truth, deserved to know why dragons attacked them and deserved to live in freedom with their dragons.

As long as Courfeyrac was breathing, he would fight for those things. He would free his friends and the realm and if it was the last thing he would do.

Right now, his only concern was to loose the shackles and arm himself though. Judging from the voices surrounding him, there were at least three men who made up his escort. Three against one had never been a good thing to start with and that Courfeyrac was still weakened by the wounds inflicted on him through the torture would not help the outcome of the fight. But Courfeyrac would fight, he made up his mind about that there and then, rocking awkwardly on the saddle while the horse neighed softly.

He tried to shift his wrists a little, aching from the iron bound around them. His ribs were pulsing with pain with every step the horse took and he had difficulty to breath even. A few moments later, Courfeyrac heard a command and the horse under him stopped. Squaring his shoulders in anticipation of what was to come, Courfeyrac stilled and tried to make out what was happening around him. The rustling of horse hooves on the ground, creaking of leather and heavy boot steps close to him made it hard to determine anything.

A rope was cut and Courfeyrac felt the restrains around his chest fall away, then someone grabbed him by his belt and yanked at it. Courfeyrac slid down the back of the horse and fell hard to the floor, his feet not finding any purchase before his weight dropped. He exhaled pained and rolled to the side, his hands still caught behind his back, his ankles also bound.

The sack was dragged from his head and sunlight blinded him while Courfeyrac blinked disorientated into the sudden light. A bulky, large figure loomed over him, crooked teeth blinking feral in the bright light of early noon. Courfeyrac snarled.

“Why so unfriendly, First Hunter?”, gloated Gueulemer while he tossed the sack behind himself, wielding a short dagger between the fingers of the other hand, the blade flashing dangerously in the sun.

Courfeyrac made not the effort to reply to the teasing, instead he glared up at the most brutal of Montparnasse's men, his mind working overtime to find a way out of this situation. Beside Gueulemer there were two more guards on the clearing, one fastening the reigns of the horses onto branches, the other looking around, keeping a watchful eye on Courfeyrac all the time.

Chained and injured as Courfeyrac was, there would be no fighting against all three of them, not with Gueulemer here. He would be dead quicker than he could blink. There was a reason why Gueulemer always played with a dagger.

“Parnasse said you wouldn't be very outspoken.”, grinned Gueulemer and paced up and down in front of where Courfeyrac was curled up on the ground, “And Javert said if you made but one piep, I could slit your throat.”

“I'm sure your orders were different.”, snapped Courfeyrac, straining a little against the chains, probing how robust they were and finding that they were the very best the realm could offer. Rusted shackles could have been broken with one precisely aimed hit against a rock, but not these.

Gueulemer laughed barking and through his head into his neck, flipping the dagger between his hands without even looking at it. When he dropped his gaze to Courfeyrac again, there was a devilish glint in his narrow, dark eyes.

“He might not have said _piep_ , you're right.”, chuckled Gueulemer, “But he said if you were to put up resistance against the sentence, I should eliminate you.”

Slowly Gueulemer hunkered down, the dagger extended towards Courfeyrac's face, the tip nearly brushing over the tip of Courfeyrac's nose. Courfeyrac gulped while Gueulemer smiled cruelly: “Go on. Put up resistance, fight for those filthy shits you call friends. I dare you. I would enjoy nothing more than to carve your traitor heart out of that pigeon's chest!”

Before Courfeyrac could reply anything, the sky darkened and everything went by so fast that Courfeyrac was left blinking surprised and confused.

One of the guards was sailing with a piercing shriek through the air, tossed over the clearing by strong, sharp black claws. The other guard lay unconscious between orange, long claws. And Gueulemer was pinned to the ground by a humongous, midnight-blue claw.

“Parthenope!”, called Courfeyrac baffled and struggle into a sitting position, staring wide-eyed at the water breeder whose jaw was gaping over Gueulemer's face, fangs glinting fierce while a threatening rumble tore from her chest.

Parthenope turned her head away from the prisoner and stared at Courfeyrac and he would have bet his life on the fact that she seemed relieved and happy to see him although there was a permanent worry creasing her brow.

Wind tousled Courfeyrac's sweaty curls while another dragon landed on the clearing. Romeo glinted like glass in the bright light and Courfeyrac could not close his mouth when he recognized that he was wearing a snafflebit and a saddle.

“Just in time, ey?”, asked Gavroche, grinning wide at him while he slid down Romeo's back as soon as the dragon had landed, the flying mask shoved up into his wild hair.

“Gav!”, gasped Courfeyrac, collapsing back to the ground while Gueulemer still struggled against Parthenope's grip.

“At your service.”, smiled the boy and ran over to Gueulemer, searching his pockets where he could reach them between Parthenope's toes. Retrieving what he had been looking for and making sure to pinch Gueulemer cruelly before leaving, Gavroche got up and darted to Courfeyrac where he unlocked the chains around his ankles and wrists.

As soon as Courfeyrac was freed, he wrapped his arms around the boy and drew him into a tight, breath-taking embrace. Gavroche seemed startled, but then he melted into the arms of the older man and hid his face in Courfeyrac's hair.

“Gosh, I thought you were arrested too. What are you doing out here alone?”, asked Courfeyrac, his voice thick with emotions while Gavroche slowly leaned back and blinked against tears.

“Ponine sent me away with the dragons. She just... She sent me _away_ and I could do nothing to help her.”, said Gavroche weakly and rubbed at his right eye, refusing to show the tears burning behind his lashes.

“We both couldn't.”, tried Courfeyrac to sooth him and drew him into a hug once more, feeling Gavroche tremble against his shoulder. He placed a kiss into the wild, blond hair of the boy and closed his eyes. He couldn't imagine how terrible the hours Gavroche had had to spent alone must have been. Again, Courfeyrac found himself admiring this brave, strong little boy.

“You didn't sell them out, Courf, did you?”, whispered Gavroche and his arms tightened around Courfeyrac's neck, “The soldiers said you did but we didn't believe them. _I_ couldn't believe them. You didn't sell us, did you?!”

“I didn't!”, rasped Courfeyrac, drawing the boy closer still, “I swear to you, I didn't!”

“Liar!”

Gueulemer's sharp gasp cut through the air and was followed by the deep growl from four dragon throats. Swoboda had landed next to Lamia and was staring threateningly at the still unconscious guard she had tossed to the other end of the clearing while Romeo paced back and forth, glaring at Gueulemer.

Courfeyrac let go off Gavroche and looked towards the man while the boy turned towards him as well. Gueulemer's cruel eyes glinted fierce while he yanked at Parthenope's claw without any result. His voice was sharp though while he continued: “Sang like a little sparrow, your glorious First Hunter. Sold us every secret there was to know about you in order to save his own hide. He would have sold his own mother if it would have aided his cause!”

Courfeyrac had gotten up, one hand on Gavroche's shoulder while they had made limping steps towards their prisoner. Gavroche's blue eyes were trained intently on Courfeyrac who took in the whole rant – all the lies – that came so easily to Gueulemer. When he looked down at Gavroche, Courfeyrac exhaled slowly. The boy was bright and wise beyond his years, he heard the lies as well.

Sinking down on one knee, Courfeyrac supported himself on Parthenope's scales and leaned towards Gueulemer, his eyes narrowing slowly.

“I don't know if it has occurred to you...”, murmured Courfeyrac and wrestled the dagger from Gueulemer's hand, “But you are all alone now, your companions gone or knocked out. You are surrounded by four dragons waiting for _my_ order to feast upon your flesh. Don't you think it is time for you to stop lying and start begging for your life?”

Gueulemer searched Courfeyrac's face for a moment, a sly smile appearing on his features while he snarled: “Like that bespectacled bitch when I got my hands on him?!”

Rage ripped through Courfeyrac's heart and his fist collided with Gueulemer's cheekbone before he could even form a coherent thought. The head of the brute was knocked to the side and his eyes fluttered shut while Courfeyrac cursed and waived his uncurled hand through the air, hoping to shake off the pulsing pain in his knuckles.

After a short moment, Courfeyrac sighed and looked to Gavroche who was watching him intently. Courfeyrac sighed and pushed himself up, still struggling with the aftermath of the torture. Parthenope was there though, shoving her snout against his side to stabilize him. Courfeyrac smiled fondly at her and patted her nostril before turning to Gavroche.

“We need to bind them.”, he told the boy who raised a quizzically eyebrow.

“You want to bind them and leave them _here_?”

“We are going to bind them on their horses. Maybe the animals will be smart enough to take them back to the castle. If not...”

Courfeyrac shrugged his shoulders while a beaming smile crept onto Gavroche's face before he scampered off to retrieve a rope from the saddles of one of the horses.

 

:<∙>:

 

It was quiet and dark.

Gavroche carefully pushed his hand into Courfeyrac's while they turned from Romeo.

The silence was not something Courfeyrac connected to this place. Normally there was the soft buzz of the light bulbs, the breathing of dragons and the rumble of voices. This place had been lively and happy and now it was... deserted.

“Come on...”, said Gavroche and tugged at Courfeyrac's hand, carefully leading him into the living cave where the dragons had assembled.

Courfeyrac's breath froze in his lungs when he took in what was left of the main quarter of the rebels. The bookcases were shattered, as were the table and the chairs, the kitchen furniture and the sofas. Feathers and filling of cushions were scattered over piles of splintered wood and heaps of torn books and shredded maps and made everything look like a bizarre Yuletide scene. It was cooler than usually and half dark. Only a small fire flickered in the middle of the room: no doubt of Gavroche's making.

But the thing that tore more at Courfeyrac's heart than seeing what he had started to call home destroyed and deserted was the small crowd gathered around the fire. Lucky was curled up on the ground, Marinaio wound around her neck and Chimera and Phoenix curled up between her front paws. Lamia and Swoboda came trotting in behind them to curl up at Ophelia's side who had been resting her chin on Ruby's neck. And between Ruby's claws...

“Oh gosh, Syrah!”, gasped Courfeyrac and bolted towards the fragile looking rough neck who was wound up in bandages.

“She's not well...”, piped Gavroche while Courfeyrac fell to his knees, ignoring the pain in his body that still lingered there from the torture, “I tried to patch her up, but I don't know... She's so...”

Courfeyrac turned away from patting Syrah who had stared up at him out of foggy eyes to see that Gavroche was biting his lower lip and kneading the flying mask in his hands. He reached out and took Gavroche's hand to squeeze it lightly.

“Everything you did was just perfect, Gav.”, he tried to console the boy and turned back to Syrah, “No one could have done anything better.”

“No one but Taire or Musichetta or Joly or Bousset.”, sniffed Gavroche and wiped his nose with his shirtsleeve.

Courfeyrac sighed and agreed while his hands carefully went over Syrah's body. He had throught the dragon dead and seeing her alive – even just barely – made his heart swell with relieve. There were deep cuts and the wound of a rifle in her neck, all barely dressed with grey bandages looking suspiciously like a blanket from one of the sofas. She was blazing hot and her breath quick and panting. Courfeyrac was not sure if she was registering what was going on around her.

Ruby nudged his shoulder with her snout and whined a little. Courfeyrac looked up at her and found worries and fears in her eyes. He carefully patted her snout, his hand shaking while all the other dragons gathered slowly around him. His throat was tight and his chest ached while he felt that they wanted him to console them, to help them and to make things better. Even Gavroche was watching him like he was the only thing in this world who could reverse the things that had happened and make everything good again.

But Courfeyrac did not know how. If he had the power, he would change everything, but right now he felt so alone and helpless that he felt like running, like hiding and crying over his lost friends, his lost family, the pain he had caused all of them. But while all these eyes were trained so hard on him, he was certain that he needed to be strong for them.

“I am sorry.”, he said quietly and turned to look at all of them slowly, “I am so sorry for what happened to all of you. I know this is my fault. And I would understand if you would not want to trust me ever again. But I've seen them.”

A wave of movement went through the dragons and Courfeyrac steeled himself for the words to follow: “I know that they are kept in the dungeons of the capital, all of them but Cosette.”

Romeo raised his head and blinked rapidly while Courfeyrac turned to him fully to tell him: “She's the hostage of the king and will not be harmed because they use her into pressuring Marius into obedience. She is out of danger...”

Romeo deflated and leaned against Parthenope while Prokno perched between his short horns, staring intently at Courfeyrac.

“I talked to Jehan.”, continued Courfeyrac and looked over to where a shiver went through Ophelia, “I saw him in the dungeons. He is all right. You need not to worry about him for now.”

“And in the future?”, asked Gavroche and scratched Andromeda who had curled up in his arms, “Do you know what their plans are?”

Courfeyrac took a deep breath and tousled his hair while he held his air to think about what to tell them. The truth hurt, he knew that, he had had to deal with the knowledge of what was to happen to them for some time now. Maybe not telling them everything was a good way to go about this.

“Don't even dare to think about lying to us.”, threatened Gavroche and furrowed his eyebrows at Courfeyrac, “We are as much part of this family as you are and we know that shit is going to go down very soon. So don't give us the kid-version of the truth, got it?”

Courfeyrac had to smile at that and reached out to tousle Gavroche's hair. Sometimes it was scary how much he was like Éponine whenever she got worked up about something. But his smile soon vanished and he took a deep breath to explain the hardest thing he had ever had to talk about: “They will be executed on Sunday on the scaffolds.”

A jolt of movement went through the dragons again and Courfeyrac heard them hiss and growl in a cacophony of fury. Gavroche paled first, then his face took on a severe, almost feral expression while he bared his teeth and growled: “They would not dare.”

“They will.”, confirmed Courfeyrac and got up, his legs suddenly turning uneasy. Folding his hands behind his back, he started pacing – more limping than walking – in between the dragons and explained: “Their execution will be held publicly in the castle as the major event of the festivities to welcome the prince back. It will be noon and the whole capital will be in the castle to witness this. All the guards will be in the castle as well, making sure that no one is trying to disturb the execution.”

“So the powder stock will be unprotected?”, asked Gavroche darkly and stared at Courfeyrac.

The older man turned to him and his mind caught on to what Gavroche meant. This boy was pure evil sometimes and quicker to go to radical conclusions than any grown-up could be. Courfeyrac tousled his hair and nodded slowly, nearly solemnly, suddenly seeing a way to change something.

“Yes, it will be.”, he confessed but hurried to add: “But that doesn't mean there won't be any guards left in the city. You won't be able to get there before anyone discovers you. You will set foot into the castle and will be discovered within minutes. And I am even better known and banned from the realm, for that matter.”

“Then we need a distraction.”, concluded Gavroche with a shrug of his shoulders as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Courfeyrac clawed his hand into his hair and closed his eyes to gather his thoughts. That he was tired, hungry and still aching from his week in the dungeons was not helping for his concentration.

“Gav, we are but _two_ people. We can not have a distraction and be able to reach the powder stock in time.”, lectured Courfeyrac and was finally stilled in his pacing when Parthenope put her claw into his way, glaring at him.

“We are not just two.”, grinned Gavroche and winked, “Remember the town Cosette and Ponine went to show Marius?”

“I do.”

“The major will help us. Everyone in the city either has a dragon or has lost a dragon through the will of the king. Enjolras and the others helped them to hide their dragons or get over the loss of them. They will help.”, he confirmed again and smiled crookedly.

“They are _civilians_.”, retorted Courfeyrac and pushed his hand through his hair, wincing when some hair got caught in the almost raw flesh where his nails had been removed.

“Enjolras and all the others helped them when no one else was there for them.”, said Gavroche hot-headed and grabbed Courfeyrac's sleeve to make him look at him, “Warriors or not, they will do whatever they can to prevent their execution.”

“And what do you think they would change?”, asked Courfeyrac, fighting against the ridiculous wave of hope rising in his chest about Gavroche's words, “They are agrarians and shepherds, grocers and smiths. They would not stand a second against the well trained guards of the capital.”

“They would not be alone.”, grinned Gavroche and winked cheeky, “One, we would have _you_ and you are an insider. Two, we would have dragons. I saw guards pissing themselves when faced with a full grown type four dragon. And we have at least four of them, haven't we.”

“One”, said Courfeyrac, trying to mimic Gavroche, “You really need to watch your language, kid. Two, that may be true but we are still _outnumbered_.”

“So?”, asked Gavroche and turned to start rummaging through the piles of shredded books and torn maps, “Who says that we need to be more than them? Aha, there it is...”

Gavroche came over to where Courfeyrac stood and dropped to his knees, smoothing a crumpled and half-torn map out on the ground, beckoning Courfeyrac over. The former First Hunter sighed unnerved but went over to hunker down next to the boy who had – surprisingly – found a map of the castle and the surrounding few streets.

“There...”, said Gavroche and tapped onto the map where the powder tower was marked in red – no doubt a remain from Enjolras' use of the map, “If we can get a few people there and blow the tower up, we are good to leave the castle through the gash in the wall. And in the chaos that ensues after the explosion, we would be out of the city in no time.”

“You make that sound so easy.”, said Courfeyrac and sighed, pointing to the ramparts surrounding the powder tower, “You'll have hundreds of guards up there, because they will have a clear view of the ward and the gallows which will be set up here.”, Courfeyrac pointed to the square just beneath the royal wing of the castle, “They will be able to close the gap in the blink of an eye. There will be no escape from the ward even with the powder tower blown up.”

“What do you suggest then?”, snarled Gavroche and Andromeda piped up soothingly only to have the boy's fingers close around her snout to silence her, “Just sit in here and wiggle our toes until the last of them is dead?”

“Of course not.”, snorted Courfeyrac and leaned closer to the map, “Give me a moment.”

His thoughts were whirling through his head, centred around the knowledge that Gavroche and himself as well as the motley crew of civilians were the only hope of his friends. But it was nearly hopeless, Courfeyrac himself knew the plans for guarding a festivity such as this by heart. About twenty warriors would surround the king and Marius at all times and no doubt Javert was with them as well.

Then there would be a good two hundred more guards in the inner castle, manning the ramparts and the gates as well as guarding the scaffold. And considering how long the hunt for the rebels had taken, Courfeyrac judged that at least fifty men were keeping an eye on the whole gathering.

Gavroche's idea about blowing up the gunpowder stock of the castle was not at all that bad, but Courfeyrac feared that more civilians would be killed than saved. They would be not better than the warriors who showed no mercy when it came to their own. And Courfeyrac knew that Enjolras would never forgive him for killing the people even if it meant that he would live. Not to mention what Combeferre would say.

Courfeyrac's heart made a painful contraction and seemed to freeze in his chest. He closed his eyes, pushing the thoughts back. Whenever he thought of Combeferre, that paralysing pain took a hold of him so that he could not think straight anymore. The thought that Combeferre could die in two days time, that the only man Courfeyrac had ever truly felt connected with could leave him without the possibility of ever being reunite again was more than he could take. So he buried those kind eyes, that soft smile and the tender voice deep in his mind and forced it to work.

He took a deep breath and – considering that he really had a few more men to command – cocked his head while he squinted down on the parchment. There could be a way...

“What if we just _pretend_ to blow up the powder tower?”, asked Courfeyrac under his breath and pointed at the tower on the map that was the furthest point from the scaffold in the whole castle.

“And what good would that do?”, asked Gavroche disgruntled and wiped his nose with his sleeve.

“We would not kill any innocents _and_ it would be enough of a distraction to free our friends.”, declared Courfeyrac and leaned forward to introduce Gavroche to his plan. When he was finished, the boy smiled wide and the gaps between his teeth were even darker in the gloom of the cave.

“What do you think?”, asked Courfeyrac and turned to Ruby whose snout was nestled against Syrah's neck. The red ember breather raised her head and looked at him for a moment, then her head turned and she looked at Parthenope who huffed a small puff of smoke. Ruby looked back to Courfeyrac and blinked twice. He took that as agreement.

“I will need all of you who are able to fly to come with me.”, declared Courfeyrac and looked at the dragons in turn. All of them seemed set on helping him with whatever he planned. Parthenope stretched and pushed her snout against Courfeyrac's shoulder, humming-purring-grumbling deep in her chest to stress her agreement. Courfeyrac sighed.

“Very well, then tomorrow morning we'll leave for the village and talk to the major. Let's hope they are really as enthusiastic as you say, Gav.”, declared Courfeyrac and sat down, his back resting against Parthenope's left claw, his head swimming again from the injuries he still suffered from.

Ophelia was stretching her neck as well and placed her snout over Courfeyrac's legs, huffing warm air at his chest and somehow managed to ease some of the cramped muscles in his body. He smiled at the large dragon and his smile seemed to prompt a chain reaction. Within seconds, Chimera and Phoenix had nestled into his curls, Marinaio had curled around his neck and Prokno perched on his shoulder. Lucky trotted over and slumped down on his other side and pushed her head into Courfeyrac's hand. Parthenope hummed again and nuzzled her snout into Courfeyrac's neck.

“Don't worry...”, said Courfeyrac while Swoboda, Ruby and Lamia were watching him with warm eyes, “We'll get them back in one piece. I promise you. And if it's the last thing I'll do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turblent chapter with A LOT going on. We're drawing steadily to the close now ;)
> 
> Hope this chapter wasn't too much to bear for you, it was definitely difficult to write...


	8. Chapter 8

The torch cast an angry, sharp, triangular wedge of light through the darkness. Carefully, Courfeyrac pushed the door open even a little further, his hand shaking on the door handle. The door had been cracked open, like all the others, and he had dreaded to enter this room ever since he had started the search for anything useful left in the cave.

The small light had been ripped from the wall and flung into the collection of phials, glasses and bottles on a shelf that had been holding herbs and small animals. The shattered fragments of a picture frame filled with different species of moths lay amongst the pile on the floor. The bookshelf had been turned over, books had been shredded and ripped apart. Pages were scattered all over the floor. The bed was destroyed, the mattress slit and the stuffing of the pillows scattered over the floor.

They had slept with each other for the first time in this bed. Combeferre had shown him his books proud and had boasted a little about his collection of moths. He had pressed Courfeyrac against the door and had kissed him until Courfeyrac's head had been swimming. Courfeyrac had considered this small room more of a home than the vast chambers he had occupied in the castle.

And now it was completely destroyed. Nothing of Combeferre's warmth, of his organisation and his calmness was left in this room. It was utter chaos, utter destruction and despair.

Courfeyrac's throat went tight and he closed the door, heading back along the dark hallway. He could not go inside the room, could not face the scene any longer. He wanted to remember the room as it had been, as he would have to remember Combeferre as he had been if he could not save him tomorrow.

Gavroche was waiting for him in the dragon's cave, fastening the strap on Romeo's saddle while the other dragons were clawing at the ground in excitement. Courfeyrac went over to where Ruby was sitting beside the improvised stretcher they had built for Syrah. She was a little better than the evening prior and had even accepted some meat this morning after Courfeyrac had urged her too. Lamia would transport the stretcher to the village.

Courfeyrac fell to one knee beside Syrah and scratched her head while she blinked exhausted at him. He smiled and murmured: “Not long anymore, then someone will help you properly.”

Ruby rubbed her snout against his back as Courfeyrac rose and purred at Syrah then. Courfeyrac patted her neck and turned to the other dragons. Gavroche had been very busy and had put the saddles and bridles on every dragon in the cave. They would need the transportation if their plan should really work.

Ophelia trudged towards him, something in her jaws that looked like...

“What's that, Phee?”, asked Courfeyrac and caught the bundle as Ophelia dropped it at him. He unfolded the cloth ad found something that made his heart ache and his eyes water. The cuirass Jehan had started for him had found its way back into the cave and had survived the destruction by the soldiers.

His fingers clawed into the stiff leather while he inspected Jehan's work. It was a piece of art, gorgeous, and just lacked one more clasp at the right side just under the arm. Courfeyrac shook out the cuirass and drew the cloak and the doublet he had been wearing over his head. The dragons watched his every move while he slipped into the cuirass and started buckling the clasps at each side. For the last, lacking clasp, he found a piece of string and tied it shut.

“Dashing...”, smirked Gavroche and knocked his fist against the firm leather over Courfeyrac's stomach a few times while Courfeyrac took the flying mask the boy handed him. He could not believe that his old mask had also survived the destruction, but seeing the light leather with the orange scales made him smile softly.

“We should go.”, said Courfeyrac and nudged Gavroche who nodded. Courfeyrac turned and strode towards Parthenope who stood waiting, her paw already offered as a step for the approaching young man.

Courfeyrac crawled up onto her back and adjusted his seat in the saddle, patting her scales encouraging. Parthenope looked over her shoulder for a moment, then she made a soft noise that made Ruby straighten. She gave a sharp, cutting snarl and the smaller dragons ascended into the air and out of the crack. Ophelia, Swoboda and Lucky followed, then Lamia took off, carrying Syrah. Ruby followed on their heels and Gavroche directed Romeo into the air as soon as Courfeyrac nodded.

Looking around, the young man sighed deeply. He wondered if he ever would ever see this cave again or if he would ever hear the laughter that bounced off these walls just a few weeks ago.

Taking up the reigns, he nudged Parthenope who rose with mighty flaps of her wings into the cool morning air. Satisfied, Courfeyrac saw how most the dragons had gone directly and without any further delay towards the settlement in the distance. If his eyes were true to him, Swoboda was even already standing on the main square of the settlement.

Courfeyrac leaned forward and followed the others down along the slope of the mountain and landed Parthenope just a few minutes later in the wide square were all the other dragons had gathered. The inhabitants of the settlement had started gathering, some of them greeting the dragons worried, others murmuring suspiciously amongst themselves.

Courfeyrac slid from the saddle and landed with a little huff on the ground, his wounds and injuries still troubling him from time to time. When he straightened up, he saw Gavroche talking hurriedly to a few men at one end of the square while another came striding surely towards Courfeyrac.

He was an elderly man, maybe over fifty, had soft looking, wavy grey hair that hung into his forehead and dark, intense eyes. The shadow of a grey beard made his face a little more edgy than it probably was but the kind and soft expression of his face made Courfeyrac relax.

“Welcome, rider.”, said the man in a low, pleasant voice, “I see you are with our friends but I think we never had the pleasure of meeting before this day.”

He offered Courfeyrac his hand as soon as he had reached him and smiled a little when Courfeyrac pushed his flying mask into his hair. Courfeyrac took the hand and shook it.

“My name is Jean Valjean and I'm the major of this town.”, introduced Valjean himself and smiled kindly at Courfeyrac.

“My name is Courfeyrac. I am... I was... I...”, stuttered Courfeyrac, unsure of what to say.

“He's Combeferre's boyfriend and has Enjolras' trust.”, said Gavroche, appearing beside the major and grinning at the older man, “Oh, and he was the First Hunter of the realm before Enj knocked some sense into his thick skull.”

Courfeyrac got aware how some of the men standing along the square raised their pitchforks or their scythe while others grabbed their children and drew them away form him. His heart dropped while Parthenope turned to the men and snarled threatening.

“He's been tortured and banned from the realm.”, went Gavroche on to explain without pausing, “He's been used to find out about the rebels and now we are going to the castle to save them.”

Valjean looked at Gavroche for a long time, then he turned his eyes to Courfeyrac who tried not to shirk from his assessing gaze.

“Cosette talked about you when she was here the last time. She said you are a good man. Are you a good man, Courfeyrac?”, asked Valjean and Courfeyrac was not sure if it was a threat or a compliment that was hiding in that question.

“I have not always been.”, he decided on admitting, “But with the help of Enjolras and the rebels I became better and I still try to better myself everyday.”

“And that is all we can ask of a person.”, smiled Valjean warmly and clasped Courfeyrac's shoulder with a warm smile.

“But in the process...”, admitted Courfeyrac, “I would need your help. I can not help my friends alone. But if there would be a few men willing to...”

The screech echoed through the air and cut sharp into Courfeyrac's head. The crowd dispersed in panic, shouting and screaming while they were running for cover. Out of the corner of his eye, Courfeyrac saw how Parthenope whipped around and how Lamia and Swoboda were about to hurl themselves in front of him when he turned to face the assailant.

Yellow scales, a sharp beak-like snout, a red scar over one eye and teeth bared, the citron parachute was rushing towards him, filling its chest with air. Courfeyrac pushed Valjean to the side and grabbed Gavroche, shielding him with his body while he heard the tell-tale hiss of fire breathing he had grown accustomed to while living with dragons.

Bright light enveloped him and blinded him for the split of a second. A feeling like warm fabric caressing his skin was enveloping him while his heart stopped for a second, assuming to beat in a different rhythm a second later, a rhythm that Courfeyrac felt echoed in another being. The warmth of the enveloping fabric seeped into his skin and warmed him from within. The smell of summer, of cookies and lavender filled his nose – smells he would always link to his home and the feeling of happiness.

Courfeyrac looked over his shoulder and saw the flames still dancing over himself while the dragon was standing only a metre behind him. And suddenly a sadness filled his heart, a heavy sadness that was mixed with a boisterous relieve that made Courfeyrac smile although he did not understand those feelings.

She stopped to breath fire and straighten. As soon as the flames were gone, something in Courfeyrac's mind clicked. He felt his arms fall away from Gavroche while his mind was suddenly filled with pictures: a small boy on a swing in the garden of a big, royal house, laughing while his father was pushing him higher and higher into the air. A blazing house and a screaming child, reaching his chubby arms towards the flames and bawling his eyes out. Searing pain shot through his own shoulder when the memory hit him of a bolt that ripped through skin, muscle and tendons.

Two boys riding on horseback, laughing about the beautiful day and the dogs chasing after them. A young man setting out on his first patrol, the armour just a little too big for him. A foggy day, the young man clutching a bloody sword while his hands shook after killing his first dragon. Two young man on the back of a blue dragon, racing towards a black badger catcher. A red ember breather, spotting her in the sky and warning the others. A chase, blinding fear and pain. The top of a mountain, thundering heartbeat and adrenaline and never-ending sadness.

Courfeyrac shook his head and rubbed his eyes. He felt the plea for apology, the hope for forgiveness. He raised his eyes to the citron parachute and suddenly understood. The headache he had felt when he had wounded the dragon had not been a headache. It had been that pain that everyone felt when their companion was wounded.

The parachute stepped towards Courfeyrac, her head hung a little, her eyes careful and afraid. Courfeyrac could not help it, although he was facing the dragon that had killed his parents – by accident apparently –, had attacked him twice and had wounded Parthenope, he could not hold a grudge against her. Slowly he raised his hand and slid his fingers along her beak-like snout until he touched the healing scar.

“I'm sorry.”, he mumbled and then the name spilled from his lips, the name that he knew was hers and had always been hers: “Artemis.”

Because she had had to hunt after him all her life – all his life. Because she was a hunter and because she had pursued her heart's desire until she had finally breeched the cleft between them and had found him.

Courfeyrac threw his arms around her neck and pressed his face against the rough, warm scales, taking in her smell of pines, of rough rock and of sunshine and mumbled: “I'm so sorry.”

He was forgiven, he knew he was but he also needed to forgive her in order to make her heart lighter. Because she was sorry to cause him so much pain. And because she was sorry to have hurt Parthenope and Combeferre. Because she had just done that out of fear and desperation.

Courfeyrac was not sure how she did it, but all her thoughts felt like his own thoughts and he understood her, he felt what she felt and knew what she knew. Her eyes blinked down at him when he leaned back and smiled. He did not know if he needed to tell her out loud that he forgave her, now that he understood or if he just needed to think about it, but her low humming-purring-grumbling noise that seemed to echo in his bones was enough that he knew she knew.

A hand closed around his shoulder slowly and Courfeyrac turned around, dazed from what he had just experienced. The major was smiling softly at him and said: “Congratulations on finding her. She is magnificent.”

“Her name is Artemis.”, said Courfeyrac, stupidly proud about the compliment from Valjean while Gavroche tugged at his sleeve.

“You saved my life.”, smiled the boy a little shaken and hugged Courfeyrac on belly-height.

Courfeyrac squeezed the boy carefully and sighed into his blond hair. His head was swimming, a whirlwind of emotions was cursing through his blood and the mixture of his own thoughts and feelings that joined with Artemis' made his head throb slightly. He wished someone was there to help, to explain and guide. He wished Combeferre was with him.

Artemis nuzzled her snout into his hair and hummed consoling, letting him know that they would free Combeferre and that there was no reason to worry now that they had found each other. With still one arm wound around Gavroche, Courfeyrac looked up and scratched her between the eyes, smiling sadly and tried to convey all his worries to her. And she knew and understood, he felt that.

“Courfeyrac is it?”, asked a voice next to him and Courfeyrac turned.

A young man stood beside him and his dragon was at his heels. The female fox snapper cocked her head inquiring while Artemis seemed astounded to see a dragon so close up without them shying away from fear. She was not used to anyone seeing her than anything else than a soulless killer, Courfeyrac knew that now. His hand rested on her head while he nodded at the man.

“My name is Mathieu.”, said the man and pointed at his dragon, “This is Sura, Taire and Bousset helped me raise her after I found her as a hatchling. We heard that they are sentenced to death and we would be willing to help you with whatever you plan.”

Courfeyrac broke out into a grin and grabbed the shoulder of the young man, squeezing it happily. Still smiling, he said: “Thank you, Mathieu. I am indeed in need of help. And I have a plan.”

He turned from the man and addressed the whole town: “Everyone who is willing to help Enjolras and all the others, come join me and I will tell you the plan Gavroche and I came up with. I don't ask from any of you to join us who are not willing. The choice is yours. But I hope you will rise and help me fight the injustice that has weighed our good realm down for so long. Don't let them pay for the sins of the king and his men, don't let them be killed to establish the despotism of the Pontmercys even further. Join arms with me and we will end this cruelty.”

Multiple voices rose in agreement, dragons surfaced from the nearby buildings and the wood, joining their human companions to flock towards Courfeyrac who stood next to Artemis, looking like the authority he never had as First Hunter while he was glowing with the enthusiasm and the believe that he could move something if he just believed hard enough in this cause... in _his_ cause.

He would fight, he would be joined by the people, he would free them and cast the Pontmercys out of the castle. They would free the people from the exaggerated taxes, would show them how dragons really were and would allow them to join their companions, to live happily and fulfilled without fear of being punished.

Together, Enjolras, Courfeyrac and Combeferre would lead the realm towards the light!

 

:<∙>:

 

Artemis commanded him to relax, sensing how the muscles in Courfeyrac's neck started tensing and aching. He patted her slender neck while she leaned again into a sharp curve in the air while Courfeyrac watched how the dragons ascended one by one into the sky.

The sky was still of a steal-grey while the edges of the horizon were tinted in soft pink and rosé colours. The horsemen had left two hours ago, Valjean looking like one of the old knights, sitting with an impressive sword at his hip on the black stallion, going once more over the plan with Courfeyrac before he commanded the horsemen to leave. They had been twenty.

And now the dragons were gathering over the village, everyone serving a man from the village as transportation, even the dragons of his friends. Parthenope was keeping close to Courfeyrac and Artemis, Mathieu sitting on her back while Sura was circling around them. They were an additional group of eleven dragons carrying all in all seventeen humans – men and women alike. Made a total of thirty-seven people to face approximately three hundred guards in the capital.

Courfeyrac's stomach dropped while he was doing the maths again. He could not shake the feeling that he was leading all these people to their certain deaths. If they would not be killed in the fight, they would be captured and imprisoned, tortured and would eventually die of their wounds. His stomach turned.

Artemis jerked her head and yanked at the bridle, warning him not to loose his nerves because everyone had chosen on their own account to follow Courfeyrac. They had known the dangers and still had decided to come with him. He needed to keep his nerves if he wanted to be a good leader.

“You're right...”, grumbled Courfeyrac and patted her again while he pushed himself up in the stirrups, the reigns gathered in one hand while he watched over the assembled dragons, taking a count to determine if everyone was there.

Gavroche was waiving at him from Romeo's back and Courfeyrac waived back, turning Artemis sharply with just the thought of a turn. He couldn't believe how close the connection really was and was wondering if the dragon would really feel and sense everything that was going on in him and his mind. She would, he understood, while Artemis shook her head a little. Courfeyrac blushed under the flying mask and tried to push away the memories of making love to Combeferre under the starlight or his dirty-talking in the woods.

Artemis snorted and that snort sounded so much of laughter that Courfeyrac tugged a little bugged at the reigns.

“A little privacy would be welcome, you know.”, he muttered but couldn't keep himself from smiling when he felt how content she was with his feelings for Combeferre and how much she liked the other man already although she had never met him. Surprisingly, it meant the world to Courfeyrac that Artemis accepted Combeferre and was fond of him. He would have not been able to handle the situation if she hadn't liked the man he loved.

A look over his shoulder told Courfeyrac that the villagers had listened closely to what he had said. They had taken to the formation in an instinct and built an almost perfect V behind him with Courfeyrac and Artemis as their front. He nodded to himself and turned back, chewing at his bottom lip while they sped towards the dark shadow of the capital in the distance.

The plan was – if nothing went wrong – simple. Before the sun would rise, the dragons would land in the near forest to the north of the capital – unseen, hopefully. They would wait until noon for their sign in the person of Prokno who would deliver them a black ribbon if they would have to strike in an instant which would mean that the distraction had failed or he would provide them with a white ribbon which meant everything was working according to plan.

The horsemen would scatter into smaller groups – some of them would hide their horses along the way – to resemble the ordinary agrarians from the countryside who came to town to witness the festivities, the execution and enjoy a day without any work on their farms. They would be armed under the cloaks though and Courfeyrac prayed that they would not be searched at the gates. They would enter the city through the southern and the eastern gates, drawing closer to the gunpowder storage tower from these directions.

Once everyone was in the castle, Valjean would sent Prokno to tell them. Then he would – very unsubtle and suspicion-rousing – draw towards the powder tower without hiding his intentions of “blowing it up”. That would hopefully lure most of the guards from the main celebration – or the execution how you would call it if you weren't a lying courtier – and assemble them in the eastern part of the castle.

Courfeyrac and the dragon riders would land in the main square, would free the rebels and would take them away from the castle. If everything worked as it should, no one would be hurt and everyone would be free.

 _If_ everything would work as planned. Courfeyrac groaned and thought about pinching Artemis. Instead he just scolded: “Now who's the pessimist? Me or you?”

Artemis shook her head once again and tugged at the reigns and Courfeyrac wondered how much exactly he was actually guiding Artemis and how much she was allowing him to guide her. Artemis left that musing uncommented and focused on their distant destination.

They slid through the dark sky without any noise. If no one knew that they were passing them overhead, they would not suspect anything. Courfeyrac calmed down the further they got to the capital. They went undetected and landed just before the sun peeked over the horizon in the dense wood behind the capital.

Courfeyrac slid from Artemis' back and patted her shoulder while she crouched down a little. He heard the rustling of other dragons in the undergrowth, the whispers of the men and women who just waited for his sign. Romeo touched down only centimetre from him and Gavroche dragged the mask of his face.

“And now?”, he asked eager.

Courfeyrac caught him while he slipped down Romeo's back and set him to his feet. He let his hand rest on Gavroche's shoulder – to sooth the boy or to steel his own nerves, he was not sure.

“Now we wait for Prokno.”, sighed Courfeyrac and turned to look for Parthenope and Mathieu who had disappeared in the dark camouflage of the woods around him. His eyes couldn't find them but Artemis let him know that they had landed about fifty metre to their right and that Parthenope was very nervous judging from her fast heartbeat.

“You wait here with Romeo and Artemis.”, ordered Courfeyrac and glared at Gavroche who started pouting in an instant.

“I don't need a babysitter.”, complained the boy and drew his dagger from the sheath at his hip, the one Valjean had given him in order to stop his protests.

“You're right.”, said Courfeyrac under his breath and tousled the boy's hair, “You need two! Stay with Romeo and Artemis.”

He let Artemis know that she was allowed to eat Gavroche if he tried anything and she gave that snort again that sounded like a laugh and let him know that she had had more appetising goats than that scrawny little boy. Courfeyrac grinned in the darkness and shook his head about her. He would never get used to her wicked sense of humour.

Turning on his heels, Courfeyrac made his way through the trees, passing other villagers who asked the same question as Gavroche, namely what to do now. Courfeyrac tried to calm them down with telling them that they had to wait for the sign and otherwise had to keep quiet. They all seemed content but it still took Courfeyrac about five minutes to make the walk of fifty metre over to Parthenope.

She was rolled up on the ground, watching Mathieu and Sura through half closed eyes while Ruby sat next to her with her back straight as a stick and watched over Syrah who had dozed off again.

Courfeyrac shook his head about the stubborn rough neck who had not wanted to be left behind and had urged Ruby to take her along in a little bag that she had held in her claws. Courfeyrac was still not sure if it had been a good idea to allow it because sooner rather than later Ruby would have two riders – a young girl from the city named Julie and Enjolras – and would have to carry Ruby as well.

“Hello everyone.”, greeted Courfeyrac under his breath and made everyone turn.

Parthenope's eyes sparkled happy and she pushed her head against his side, nuzzling carefully not to knock Courfeyrac over. He adjusted the string of the crossbow over his shoulder and patted her snout while Mathieu turned to him.

“Any sign of that smoke swallow hunter? What was his name?”, asked Mathieu and scratched Sura under the chin.

“Prokno.”, answered Courfeyrac and patted Ruby who had drawn closer as well, “And no, luckily not. I really pray he's returning with a white ribbon.”

“Would make our job a lot easier.”, agreed Mathieu and nodded solemnly.

Silence fell while Courfeyrac scratched the scales over Parthenope's right eye and watched Syrah doze in the twilight of the woods. He had never thought about what he would do if this plan of his did not work. What would he do if he failed? When all his friends...?

Courfeyrac closed his eyes and leaned his head against Parthenope's neck. So much was resting on his shoulders and he wished Enjolras would be here to tell him what to do and Combeferre was here to tell him if he did the right thing or not. Panic and fear clawed at his heart for a moment, then a flood of calm and warmth flowed through him and Courfeyrac raised his head surprised, looking at Parthenope as if she was the one changing his feelings.

Instead, through the darkness of the woods and the silence of the early morning, Courfeyrac felt that Artemis was consoling him. She tried to ease his worries and promised to be there for him, no matter what happened today. And she let him know that the dragons of his friends were so grateful for what he did for them that they would not start blaming him if something went wrong. They would probably flock to him and come with him wherever he went if they did not manage to free their companions but they would not start hating him.

Courfeyrac smiled and sent back feelings of gratitude and fondness before he sighed and whispered to Mathieu: “Everyone knows their tasks?”

“Yes.”, emphasised Mathieu and looked up at Courfeyrac, “I went with them through the whole plan again before we left. Everyone knows who their priority is and where to take them. And you are sure that it is the best thing to separate them after freeing them?”

“I do.”, replied Courfeyrac and hunkered down next to Syrah to pat her back slightly, “A large party of fugitives will be easy to find. If we scatter them to the winds, the king and his men will have no chance at finding them again.”

“And where will you go, Courfeyrac?”, asked Mathieu and looked up, “We know where to take the others. Will you go with them?”

Courfeyrac looked to the ground for a moment. He had decided for all of his friends where they would go. Enjolras, Grantaire, Cosette and Éponine would be taken by Gavroche to a kingdom miles and miles away, the furthest he sent any of them. They should be able to start again, to make a life for themselves again and he even knew that the young kingdom was looking for able, young men who would help to rebuild their broken system. Enjolras would fit there perfectly.

Musichetta, Joly and Bousset would be taken to a kingdom to the east. An old kingdom that lived mainly from fishing and ship trade. It was located at the seaside and Courfeyrac was sure that the trio would find their home there fairly quickly. Their academies were known for their interest in medicine and healing and their tolerance for dragons was known far and wide in all the world.

Bahorel, Jehan and Feuilly would be escorted to a kingdom in the north. Feuilly had mentioned to Courfeyrac that he thought his family had been located there for he had read that ginger hair was very common in these parts. Bahorel had laughed and told him that once they had abolished the monarchy in this kingdom, they could go there and try to find his family, if he thought that ginger hair was what indicated his motherland. He hoped that Feuilly would really find his family there and that the three of them would be able to get their shit together and be happy.

And for himself and Combeferre... Courfeyrac was not sure. He had sent all the others to realms where dragons were tolerated and even worshipped – Jehan would be delighted of the epic and lyrical literature in the northern realm about dragons and their powers. All the other countries Courfeyrac knew where either afraid or hostile towards dragons.

He knew one realm, a realm that was said to be open minded and really progressive in their technology and their sciences. But they had never had dragons in their lands, so Courfeyrac was not sure how they would welcome two large specimen if they had never seen any of them before. He just hoped that their interest in new things would cover dragons as well.

And Courfeyrac was sure that Combeferre would love the academies there. He could practically see Combeferre hunched over old volumes, his eyebrows raised in curiosity and delight and his lips reading silently while Parthenope was waiting for him on the square in front of the library, the very object of interest and curiosity herself. Courfeyrac hoped that this vision would come true one day.

The only thing that made his head ache was the thought about splitting the group. He knew how very close Grantaire, Joly and Bousset were; knew how much Cosette enjoyed Feuilly's company and how much he liked to spent time with her, talking, reading, discussing; he knew that Enjolras would miss Combeferre more than anything and that he would struggle to find a completing friend like Combeferre had been and vice versa; he knew that Bahorel would miss picking at Bousset and that Joly would miss cataloguing herbs and insects with Combeferre. If he was thinking closely about his decision, he was not sure if this group could function if ripped apart.

Recognizing that Mathieu was still waiting for his answer, Courfeyrac cleared his throat and straightened up, patting Parthenope once again as he answered: “I'll go to the realm of Carfen and hope that Combeferre and I will be welcome there.”

“So you won't return to the court and try to change things?”, asked Mathieu and something like hope seemed to shimmer in his eyes.

“In a few years maybe.”, he confessed and sighed, tousling his hair while the sun rose further over the wood, “But first of all I need to make sure that all of them are safe and out of the reach of the kingdom. Their safety comes first.”

“You're right.”, agreed Mathieu but grinned at Courfeyrac cheekily, “But as far as I know Enjolras, he will probably behead you with bare hands if you take him away from the fight.”

“Then the first thing I should do is tie him.”, grinned Courfeyrac back and patted Ruby before turning and saying over his shoulder: “I'll go back to Gavroche before he sets the wood on fire from boredom. Be ready to fly at any time.”

“We will be.”, promised Mathieu and drew his sword, checking the blade against the sunlight.

Courfeyrac strolled back through the forest and sat down at Artemis' feet, sighing heavily while Gavroche went on carving something with his dagger out of a piece of wood he had found on the ground.

The silence and the waiting were the worst things Courfeyrac had to endure during the last few days. Artemis did her best to distract him, showing him memories of her time in the wild – Courfeyrac asked her kindly to stop once she had quite illustrative shown him how she had once hunted down a mountain goat and had gobbled it down on the spot.

While the sun rose in the sky, Andromeda came over and snuggled up against Courfeyrac. Artemis inquiring why he was so fond of that little crawling nag – like she used to call her. Struggling a little, Courfeyrac conjured all the memories he had about Andromeda and showed them to Artemis who relaxed slowly.

On the edge of his consciousness, Courfeyrac felt disappointment clawing at his heart and he needed a moment to realize that it was Artemis' emotion he was feeling. Reassuring her that the baby was not playing a bigger role in his life than she was, he patted Artemis' snout and kissed the dry scales once before the dragon sat up again and puffed a small cloud of smoke at Andromeda who retreated towards Gavroche.

Courfeyrac was a bundle of raw nerves by the time he heard the whistle. Mathieu had told him that the villagers used this whistle sometimes to warn each other of approaching danger. They had agreed to use it as soon as someone would spot Prokno.

Courfeyrac was on his feet in the blink of an eye and turned towards the direction the whistle had come from. Seconds later, the small shape of Prokno came flitting through the trees, searching for him. Courfeyrac raised a hand and called his name softly. The small dragon turned mid-air and sped towards him.

Gavroche and Mathieu – who had appeared between the trees – crowded around Courfeyrac while Prokno perched on his lower arm and held out the ribbon he had to deliver. Courfeyrac closed his eyes relieved to see that it was a white ribbon. So everything went according to plan.

Patting the small smoke swallow hunter on the head, he turned to Mathieu and ordered: “That's the sign. We leave at once. Keep the men and women close to the treetops and make haste. We should land in the square before anyone even recognizes that dragons are approaching.”

“We will strike smooth and swift and then they're free.”, affirmed Mathieu and saluted quickly before dashing off into the trees where Courfeyrac heard excited voices humming through the midday air.

“So we're good to go?”, asked Gavroche, his eyes glinting fierce while his fingers tightened around Romeo's reigns.

“Yes.”, sighed Courfeyrac and nodded, “We are.”

Gavroche wanted to mount Romeo, but Courfeyrac held him back by the shoulder and stared insistently into the eyes of the boy.

“Your first duty is to get your sister and Cosette out of there, you hear me? Ruby has her own commands and will follow you with Enjolras and Grantaire once they are free and once Julie is safe. You do not get involved in _any_ fighting or any _other_ commotion. You _stay down_ and leave as soon as the girls are with you, got it?”, ordered Courfeyrac sternly and tightened his fingers around the boy's shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah.”, groaned Gavroche and wrinkled his nose in annoyance, “You told me like _a million_ times.”

“And I won't get tired to repeat myself unless you swear that you will listen to me.”, urged Courfeyrac and finally Gavroche sighed deeply and nodded.

“Fine, I swear I will vanish as soon as I have them.”, vowed Gavroche and winked afterwards.

Before Courfeyrac could worry about that wink, he heard the whistles echo multifold through the quiet woods and scowled one last time at the blond boy before jogging over to Artemis to hurl himself up into the saddle. Artemis danced to the side when he stuck his other foot into the stirrup and gathered the reigns in one fist.

“Let's go, girl.”, ordered Courfeyrac and pulled a little at the reigns, leaning back slightly.

While Artemis shot up into the sky, Courfeyrac drew the crossbow over his shoulder and checked if the bolts still sat safely in the holster at his thigh. He had but one or two shots before the executioner would see what was happening and would hurry to finish his task. If only Combeferre would be with him, he was the far better shot.

Artemis swirled low over the treetops while Courfeyrac watched through the flying-mask how the other dragons joined him in the air. He knew that the moment was crucial and as dangerous and nothing he had done before. If just one guard would be left on the curtain wall to overlook the woods to the north, they had probably seen them already and had given alarm.

But Courfeyrac could not think about that now, he had to believe that his scheme would work and that nothing would happen. When Mathieu on Parthenope's back shot out of the woods, Courfeyrac raised a fist into the air and motioned towards the castle. The dragons turned and flew towards the castle in the distance, gliding over the treetops like silent shadows.

Courfeyrac's heart was beating high in his throat and he felt his fist around the reigns shake. Artemis tried to console and calm him by assuring that they were surprising the realm, that the guards would not know where to turn and that absolutely nothing would happen to them but Courfeyrac knew that she couldn't know that and told her so.

The castle got bigger and bigger until Courfeyrac saw the banners and flags beat against their poles lazily in the air of the noon. Like he had calculated, the curtain wall facing towards the north was vacant of any guards and his spirit rose a little. At least that part of the plan had worked like Courfeyrac had planned.

He leaned down a little more, letting go of Artemis' reigns and reached down to retrieve one bolt from the holster at his thigh, loading the crossbow. Artemis' shadow raced over the outer wall and Courfeyrac took in the scene beneath him in the streets: people were running about hysterically, guards trying their best to calm them. Around the area of the gunpowder tower, smoke smudged the blue sky and Courfeyrac prayed that the men from the village were in control and made sure that no spark sprang upon the tower.

The inner battlements of the actual castle were not manned heavily. Courfeyrac urged Artemis on and she shrieked deafening. Courfeyrac saw the men crouching down in fear while screams of terror were echoing up to him.

As soon as Artemis flew over the battlements and landed with a crash on the ground, snarling furiously at the diffusing crowd, Courfeyrac could finally make himself a picture of the ongoings. Like they had suspected, the scaffold had been erected on one side of the square while at the opposite side the rostrum for the king and his family was looming over the crowd.

Marius stood next to his grandfather, eyes red and face white as death. Cosette was standing a step behind Marius, clad in royal gowns and crowned with a silver circlet matching Marius', her hands chained and her eyes swimming in tears. Both of them knew that they would loose their friends – her brother – and that they could do nothing about it.

Courfeyrac's vision narrowed down on the scaffold and his breath got caught in his throat.

Dishevelled, bloody and dirty, all of his friends stood on trapdoors, the nooses already around their necks. Jehan's hair had been cut without any care and his nose ran and his eyes were puffy from the tears he had shed. A bloody gash on his brow made him look fragile and innocent while the blood had soaked his shirt at the hem.

He stood framed by Feuilly and Bahorel, who did not look any better. From the looks of it, Feuilly's lower lip was split and he kept murmuring to Jehan while Bahorel glared disbelieving through one eye at the landing dragons. Courfeyrac prayed that the other was just swollen shut and not gone.

Musichetta's dress was torn and nearly did not cover her anymore while blood crusted her lush curls. Joly sat at her side on his trapdoor, his stiff knee bent so that he knelt and Courfeyrac did not want to think about what they had done to him to move the stiff joint again. Bousset's head was showing marks of a knife and his mouth had fallen open upon the arrival of the dragons.

Éponine stood proud next to Grantaire, her face and arms marked by branding irons. She was talking to him urgently, straining against the noose to make him look up. Courfeyrac did not understand how Grantaire still stood, his face white and bony, his eyes deep in the sockets and his lips chapped and bloody. When he saw Ruby and Syrah landing next to Artemis and Courfeyrac though, a new gleam in his eyes sparked and he started struggling, calling desperately for his dragon.

Enjolras stood proud at the side of the gallows, a block of wood at his feet and the executioner with the axe next to him, gaping at the dragons. So it was like Courfeyrac had thought: make Enjolras watch his companions die before making an example of him. He was bruised and battered more than anyone of the rebels, his blond hair pink from all the blood, his cheekbones cut, one eye swollen shut and his lower lip twice as big as it had been last time Courfeyrac had seen him.

Combeferre stood in the very middle of the scaffold and was squinting at the scene in front of him. Had it not been that dangerous, Courfeyrac would have laughed. He might have laughed anyway because of the relieve of seeing Combeferre in one piece – mostly. He as well had bloody wounds in his face and Courfeyrac felt hatred and fury curse through him at the thought what those bastards had done to Combeferre – to all of his friends.

The time for looking and orientating himself was over far too quickly. There were two – fucking two – executioners on the scaffold. Courfeyrac raised the crossbow and pulled the trigger as soon as he had aimed a little. The bolt jolted off the string and whizzed through the air, digging itself into the shoulder of the executioner behind Enjolras, who dropped the axe and collapsed to one knee.

While Enjolras whirled around and thrust his chained hands into the face of the kneeling man, Courfeyrac slipped from Artemis' back, reloading the crossbow as a shriek of horror echoed over the commotion the fleeing people, the fighting guards and the sneering dragons produced.

Courfeyrac whirled around and saw that Musichetta had screamed in anguish. The executioner who was left standing had pulled the first lever and Bousset had rushed down, the rope tightening around his neck while his feet were kicking. Courfeyrac's heart stopped while the second bolt shot off the crossbow. Before it lunged into the neck of the executioner and killed him immediately, he had still the time to pull the second lever, sending Joly through the trapdoor.

Courfeyrac ran. His lungs were burning and his wounds announced their presence through sharp pain shooting up his body but he didn't care. His friends were dying, all he could see was Bousset's and Joly's kicking legs that turned limper every second that passed. He had to get there. He had to get them. He had to cut them loose.

Dragging his sword from the scabbard, Courfeyrac saw how a guard ran up to the scaffold to hinder Enjolras from making his way over to where his friends dangled to safe them. Only a few steps left. Courfeyrac dodged one knocked down guard and headed for the stairs when he was suddenly tackled to the ground.

All air rushed out of his lungs and his fingers scrambled over the hilt of his sword, struggling not to loose grip. He rolled over and jumped to his feet again, facing whoever it was who had attacked him.

Through the haze of panic and adrenaline, Courfeyrac felt a sharp pang of fury and protectiveness and saw Artemis – who had up until that point defended Syrah and some other dragons against the approaching guards – whirl around and start towards him. All he could think of were Joly and Bousset and he willed her to save them instead of him. Reluctantly, she obliged.

Courfeyrac focused on this attacker again when he heard the sound of steel scrape over the opening of a scabbard. Javert. Of course _bloody_ Javert would be there to stand in his way, like always.

“Courfeyrac.”, panted the older man and pointed his sword towards him, “This was your death sentence. Attacking the kingdom, _killing_ two of its defendants, disregarding of your penalty.”

“Stop spitting lies and fight.”, snarled Courfeyrac, stepping towards Javert who blocked his blow with an easy side-step while Courfeyrac whirled around to not present his back to the other man.

“You will not again threaten the peace in this realm, you little shit!”, spat Javert and attacked this time, furious blows drumming down against Courfeyrac's guard.

Courfeyrac was backing away step after step, panting as every blocked blow went through his sore body like a bolt of lightning. Panting through grit teeth, he tried to bring Javert out of balance: “Peace, you say? Don't you mean despotism and slavery?!”

“You understand nothing, you foolish boy!”, snarled Javert and kicked through Courfeyrac's lowered guard.

Folding nearly in half, his stomach feeling like pushed out of his body by the blow, Courfeyrac stumbled back, groaning in pain. He was able to lift his sword only in time to block the next blow for his neck.

While Javert crowded him back against the outer wall, Courfeyrac barked: “I understand more than you do, Commander. You choose to live blinded by those in power, obeying to those who take your freedom from you.”

He broke through Javert's guard for a moment and his sword slit down the arm guard the other man wore, clanging loudly on the chain glove Javert always wore. The older man stumbled back but collected himself faster than Courfeyrac thought, attacking with new found ferocity.

“Liar!”, snarled Javert and threw a punch after one particularly hard blow that nearly knocked Courfeyrac off his feet, had he not made a half-step back so that the punch only brushed his temple.

“Have you never felt incomplete and lacking?”, asked Courfeyrac while he blocked another vicious attack, “Have you never sensed that someone out there was looking for you?”

The little faltering in Javert's next attack showed Courfeyrac that he had brushed a sore spot. Gathering his remaining strength, he drove Javert back a few steps while continuing: “Why do you think these people sacrifice everything for their dragons? Why do you think so many disobey the law and risk their lives on a daily basis?”

“Stop this!”, snarled Javert and attacked blindly.

This time, Courfeyrac could side-step him with ease and rammed the hilt of his sword into the neck of the older man who collapsed groaning to the ground, rolling over when Courfeyrac placed the tip of his sword against Javert's throat. He stared up at the younger man, his eyes flaring with anger but there was also a little insecure twitch around his eyes that Courfeyrac had never seen before.

“You should start using your own head, Javert.”, said Courfeyrac and could not bite back the grin that spread on his face about the obvious defeat of the oh-so-mighty commander, “Try to see behind the charade, like I did. You're a good man, Javert. Maybe a little dumb and too easy to manipulate, but a good and loyal man. And now, if you would excuse me...”

Courfeyrac whirled on his heels to check the scene around him. The villagers were fighting back the remaining guards, keeping them at bay while the dragons had pushed forward towards the scaffold where they were crashing aimlessly against another defensive line of guards.

Somewhat relieved, Courfeyrac saw how Enjolras had been able to drag Joly and Bousset back up onto the platform and had saved them from death. They were now crouched on the floor, gasping and panting while Musichetta was talking to them, crying silently. The others had still the nooses around their necks and their hands chained on their backs. Enjolras had been able to retrieve the keys from the executioner's pockets and was starting to unchain his friends which was not so easy being chained himself.

Courfeyrac's eyes swooped over the group and stuck to those eyes that fixated him, staring afraid out of a completely paled face. Combeferre's lips were moving and although it was chaos in the square, screaming, bellowing, hissing, groaning and yelling, Courfeyrac could hear that Combeferre was gasping his name time and again as if it was a spell that would keep him safe.

His feet moved on their own account and Courfeyrac was launching himself into the line of defenders. The man facing him flinched back upon seeing that the attacker was the former First Hunter and toppled over an injured guard crouching behind him.

Courfeyrac fought like a berserk until he had made his way to the side of the stairs where he saw the commanding officers of the defendants: black, slicked-back hair, a pale face and cold, colourless eyes.

“Montparnasse!”, he cried full of hatred while the man kicked one of the smaller dragons that had accompanied the villagers into the jaw and sent the animal flying through the air.

The man in question turned and sneered triumphantly, beckoning Courfeyrac closer with a crooked finger. Courfeyrac launched his attack without a thought and Montparnasse seemed to struggle with his first few blows but easily matched him then. The young men were both grunting and snarling while the steel rung over the noise of the battle.

From the corner of his eyes, Courfeyrac saw how Gavroche appeared on the scaffold and unlocked Enjolras' chains, screaming the plan at him while Enjolras shook his head violently. Ruby was with him in the blink of an eye, snarled and grasped him in her claws. Enjolras turned and screamed and Syrah was beckoning Grantaire to mount Ruby and they were off, Enjolras' protesting screams filling Courfeyrac's ears.

“Surrender, filth!”, groaned Montparnasse who had been able to place a punch with the hilt of his sword against Courfeyrac's collarbone while he had been distracted. Courfeyrac groaned but still fought back, snarling through grit teeth: “Dream on!”

During their short exchange, the dragons had finally broken the defensive line and had gotten to their human partners. Courfeyrac's and Montparnasse's fight was suddenly painted by the shadows of dragons departing and rising into the air. Montparnasse looked up in horror and Courfeyrac saw his chance, landing a last punch against the jaw of the man that sent him toppling over where he remained face down.

Courfeyrac turned and sprinted up the scaffold where he saw Gavroche unlocking Combeferre's shackles in right that moment. Combeferre's dark eyes were trained hard at him and he was already straining against Gavroche's nimble fingers while Courfeyrac shouted: “Gav, leave! Go and take the girls!”

“But...”, snapped Gavroche when Courfeyrac was about four metres from then.

“NOW!”, roared Courfeyrac and Gavroche turned on his heels, racing over to where Romeo was waiting for him, Éponine extending her hand towards her brother. Marius was holding Cosette's hand as she had gathered the reigns of the albino ember breather in her other hand. They were talking to each other and Cosette was crying while Marius reassured her, tears in his eyes as well. Then they took off, leaving the prince behind who broke to his knees, sobs shaking his narrow shoulders.

The shackles fell off Combeferre's wrists the moment Gavroche left and Combeferre dragged the noose from his neck, darting towards Courfeyrac as soon as he was free. He was the only rebel left on the scaffold and Courfeyrac saw how the villagers drew back as well, having fulfilled their task, now following Courfeyrac's order to make sure everyone got away safe before the guards could regroup. Chaos and noise were filling the castle while all Courfeyrac could see were the frantic eyes of Combeferre.

He stretched his hand out for Combeferre, suddenly feeling the urge of touching him burning so painful in his heart that tears welled in his eyes. Combeferre's strained expression broke in a relieved and somehow hysteric grin when they were only steps apart.

The pain shot through Courfeyrac's back like a knife on fire. His steps faltered and his feet gave way while there was nothing but the searing pain and the cold clasp his lungs were suddenly in. Courfeyrac heard the agonized scream of a man nearby while his body collapsed on the hard floorboards of the scaffold. Strong hands were turning him and dragging him against a warm chest while his head lolled to the side, suddenly too heavy for his neck.

His eyes were clouded but what they focused on was a young man, a pale young man with slick black hair and cold eyes who was grinning triumphantly at him, holding a crossbow against his shoulder that Courfeyrac somehow knew. Slowly his mind made the connection to the crossbow he had shot earlier, the young man he had faced just minutes ago and the sharp pain in his back where the bolt must have struck him through the light leather armour he wore.

There was endless pain with every breath he took. Pain and numbness taking a hold over his body. But there was also an edge to that pain that made it nearly unbearable. That edge was not his own, Courfeyrac knew. But to his own misery, desperation, pain, fear and fury mixed and Courfeyrac felt the furious screech of his dragon more than he actually heard it. He could not muster the strength to calm her although her agony seemed even more unbearable than his own pain.

“Oh no, oh please _no_!”

The desperation of the voice made Courfeyrac snap out of his haze and he slowly turned his eyes towards the sky where a well known face loomed. Dark eyes swimming in tears, soft, dark hair tousled around an anguished face, lips moving in utter despair.

“It's... all right.”, breathed Courfeyrac and felt something warm spreading over his tongue. It cost him nearly all of his strength to raise his hand and brush his fingertips over the cheekbone of the man above him – the only man that had mattered for him.

Combeferre clasped Courfeyrac's hand and pressed it with his own against his cheek, his other arm supporting Courfeyrac against his body while he kept fighting back sob after sob.

“Are you hurt?”, managed Courfeyrac, a confusing and calming numbness taking a hold of his body while the pain subsided and all that was left was Artemis' anguish and fury.

“Am I hurt?”, gasped Combeferre and tears spilt from his eyes, “You fool, I don't matter! You...”

“You are the only... _uh_... the only thing that mattered to me.”, gasped Courfeyrac and smiled, feeling something dribble from the corner of his mouth and run down his chin and throat.

“Don't say that. Don't talk like this. It will be fine!”, urged Combeferre, starting to rock Courfeyrac who closed his eyes for a moment, relishing the closeness of the man he loved, the quiet and peace they were allowed to share before the end.

“Yes... it will.”, sighed Courfeyrac and opened his eyes again slowly, his hand still trapped against Combeferre's cheek, “But you... you need to go.”

“I will not leave you behind.”, sobbed Combeferre and nuzzled his cheek deeper into Courfeyrac's palm, “This is not the end. I will _not_ allow it! You will come with me and we will start anew and... and... and...”

His word ran dry and Courfeyrac felt that his attention was slipping. Black fuzziness slurred his field of vision until nothing was left but Combeferre's face above him and the feeling of his skin against Courfeyrac's palm.

“I love you, Ferre.”, whispered Courfeyrac while his mind clouded, “I want you to... _uh_... never... _uuuh_... forget that.”

“You fool!”, reprimanded Combeferre and pressed his lips to Courfeyrac's forehead, “How could I ever?! I love you too, you hear me? I love you, you can not leave me just like this! I love you so much!”

“Sorry...”, breathed Courfeyrac while his vision failed him. All that was left was Artemis calling for him, Combeferre's warm skin against his palm and his words that echoed through to Courfeyrac, dimming and quieting at the edges while he was drifting away into a velvety blackness.

 

 

:<∙>:

 

Soft and warm.

That was how the afterlife must feel like. Soft and warm and comfortable. Floating on puffy little clouds of well-being, not wanting for anything, just being.

The only thing Courfeyrac would have not expected was that his head would be aching, his throat would be dry and every breath felt like receiving a fierce pinch into his side. A very strange afterlife...

His eyelids flared and after a bit of struggling, Courfeyrac cracked one eye open, adjusting slowly to the bright light surrounding him. The first thing he saw was the fabric of a canopy: dark, rich orange with golden ornaments crowding the heavy velvet. This canopy was oddly familiar and for a moment, Courfeyrac wondered what it was doing in the afterlife. Maybe his afterlife lodgings were filled with the things he had liked in life: his bed, Combeferre, his books, Combeferre, his clothes, Combeferre. Wait, did he mention Combeferre?

The more awake he got, the more perceptive he got about his surroundings and the confusion subsided a little. Someone was holding his right hand while he lay propped up in a vast bed, the mattress hanging a little to the left, like it had always done. The room smelt of sandalwood, apples and spring, a familiar and calming smell that soothed Courfeyrac's racing thoughts.

He opened both eyes slowly and turned his head. He was indeed in his old chamber in the royal castle, laying in his bed and staring at the canopy. It seemed to be early morning as the stained glass windows to the left side of his bed were glowing a little faint in the rosé colours of the rising sun. One of the massive glass doors was left open and Courfeyrac could see a mountain of yellow scales that was radiating off a troubled feeling although it was deep in sleep.

Looking back into the room, Courfeyrac found out that he was not alone in here. In the armchair by the window, Marius had rolled up in a blanket, his head tipped back and his mouth opened a little while he snored peacefully. Scanning his old room further, Courfeyrac acknowledged the blond flock of hair that was pillowed into arms clad in a vibrant red – Enjolras had sunken onto Courfeyrac's desk and slept soundly as well.

His heart was beating faster while he looked to his right. His hand was cradled in Combeferre's while the other was supporting his head onto the mattress, Combeferre's elbow at risk of sliding off the bed at any given moment. Although asleep, his brows were furrowed and his mouth a sharp white line while blueish bags were clinging to his eyes. He had not shaved in a few days – as it seemed – as stubble was roughing his smooth features and his hair was an unkempt mess. There was a stitched cut along his left cheekbone and iodine was colouring the right side of his hairline were a nasty gash was healing nicely.

But nothing about that mattered to Courfeyrac who broke out in a wide grin, turning his hand in Combeferre's to raise it to press a kiss to the knuckles. He failed miserably though and wheezed about the pain shooting through his chest before he was even able to lift Combeferre's hand.

The attempt to move his hand woke Combeferre and he jolted awake, followed by Marius and Enjolras who had been roused by the wheeze Courfeyrac had given. Turmoil and chaos ensued.

“You're awake!”, chirped Marius and flailed while he was tangled so much in the blanket that he fell over from jumping up so fast, “Oh thank God, you're awake! How are you feeling?!”

“Courfeyrac!”, blurted Enjolras and knocked over a pile of books at the same time as Marius collapsed on the ground, “What is it? Are you in pain? Do you need anything?!”

From the balcony, a hopeful squeak caught Courfeyrac by surprise and Artemis – big, strong, muscular Artemis – was pushing inside the room as well, chirping and humming and nearly stepping onto Marius who was freeing himself from the blanket in a hurry. With the tall citron parachute in the room, Courfeyrac wondered if the floorboards would give in and they would collapse down to the ground floor. But thankful nothing else than Artemis knocking over a vase and a small side-table happened.

“Everyone, calm down, please.”, said Combeferre in a low and raspy voice while he let go off Courfeyrac's hand and got up, turning towards the wall where a table had been placed that was littered with vials, bottles, flasks and bowls full of herbs, bandages and other medical instruments that Courfeyrac did not really want to have a closer look at.

Disappointment about Combeferre turning away took a hold of Courfeyrac who opened his mouth to protest when Marius finally managed to get to the bed and collapsed next to Courfeyrac, wrapping him up in an enthusiastic hug that had Courfeyrac hissing with pain.

“Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!”, blurted Marius and leaned back, raising both hands in a surrendering gesture while Artemis growled at him, “I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm just so happy you're awake because you've been gone so long and we already thought you would not make it because _blimey_ you took so much risk at that attack and you could have died, Courfeyrac, you could have died and if it were not for...”

“Marius.”, said Combeferre quietly while he turned back from the table with a goblet filled with water, sitting down by Courfeyrac's side and helping him to sit up slightly, propping him against his shoulder to help him drink – without looking at him, as Courfeyrac recognized, “Calm down please.”

“Sorry.”, piped Marius but smiled so beaming at Courfeyrac that his heart swelled with affection for his friend.

“Marius is right, though.”, said Enjolras who had taken a stand at the foot of Courfeyrac's bed, scowling fondly at him while folding his arms, “You gave us quite a fright, my friend. What you did was quite reckless.”

Combeferre set Courfeyrac back against the pillows and got up again, turning to the table while Courfeyrac could not keep his eyes off him. When he recognized that Combeferre would not look at him but busied himself with a few vials, he sighed and turned back to Enjolras: “What I did was the only right thing.”

“And we will be forever grateful.”, replied Enjolras, raised his fist and pressed it against his heart, nodding at Courfeyrac, “You are the reason we are still alive.”

“I was the reason why you had to go through this in the first place.”, huffed Courfeyrac and closed his eyes, his headache not getting better from this.

“Don't blame yourself. Javer told me what had been his orders and we know about the torture. And we're not talking about the shot you took for Combeferre.”, said Marius fondly and brushed Courfeyrac's hair out of his eyes.

Courfeyrac was at a loss for words for a few moments and kept quiet, looking at his hands for a moment before a question flared through his mind.

“What did you just say?”, asked Courfeyrac and looked from Marius to Enjolras and back again, “Did you just say _Javert_ told you about his orders?!”

“Indeed he did.”, affirmed Enjolras and nodded, his arms crossed over his chest again, “It seems the Lord Commander of the realm finally found his wits and thought for himself.”

“After you fought him, he retrieved from the fighting to lick his wounds.”, recalled Marius, “He was watching you, watching the riders and the dragons and I think he finally understood.”

“He told Cosette that he had had a few doubts after... torturing you... but that he saw no reason to doubt his orders. When he saw the attack though, how so few simple villagers would risk everything for us in order to free us, he rethought much and thought it wise to change sides.”, added Enjolras.

“Javert... changed _sides_?”, asked Courfeyrac, wondering if he had been injured at the head because that was so unthinkable that he could hardly believe what Enjolras and Marius told him.

Seeking guidance and help, Courfeyrac turned his head to look at Combeferre who was leaning against the wall next to the table, his arms crossed, shoulders tensed and eyes fixed to the floor. He seemed to acknowledge that Courfeyrac was looking at him but did not make eye contact. In fact, his brows seemed to furrow even more than they had already been.

“Yes, he did.”, confirmed Marius and smiled pleased, “When the people saw how Montparnasse shot you down from behind, they rallied again. They pushed back into the square and tried to push back the guards. Javert saw their attempts and took the lead.”

“Javert lead the attack against his own men?”, asked Courfeyrac incredulous.

“And that's why it was so successful. The men backed down from their superior and were defeated in the blink of an eye. It was almost too easy. They arrested the king and put him under house arrest.”, told him Enjolras and Courfeyrac did not miss the little pleased smile that he gave about the whole thing.

“You shouldn't forget yourself though.”, reprimanded Marius and smiled at Enjolras while he plucked at Courfeyrac's shirt to get his attention back, “When they saw that you were... well... they all came back. Nearly set the whole castle ablaze. I thought Parthenope and Artemis would slaughter every last person who would come near you and Ferre... be it friend or foe. And Enjolras and the others took control over the chaos and saved the day.”

“I can't believe it.”, muttered Courfeyrac and scrubbed one hand tiredly over his eyes, sighing heavily.

“It's all a bit much, I assume.”, said Marius gently and took Courfeyrac's hand reassuring.

“It is.”, sighed the young man and wiggled a bit to sit up straighter, “I mean... the last thing I remember was chaos and all hell broken loose in the castle and now you... you tell me everything is _fine_?! I mean... what happened after the attack?”

“Javert called out the state of emergency on the same day.”, told him Marius and smiled gently, “My grandfather... well, he refused to give up control after what he had done to the people and they took it from him. Can you imagine, Courfeyrac? The villagers who you sent to distract the guards had spread words and started to rouse the people of the capital. Valjean had their sympathies in the blink of an eye. It appears many were feeling suppressed and afraid and were waiting for an opportunity to rise. You wouldn't believe how many people in this very city were hiding their dragons in stables and in their basements.”

“So what now?”, asked Courfeyrac who still felt that this must all be a dream, “The realm is without leader?”

“Not at all.”, cut Enjolras in and shook his head, “Marius has proven a very potent and capable leader. He and Javert reassured the people and comforted them. Marius and Bousset and Cosette were able to show the people that all they knew about dragons were lies. Tolerance grew and suspicion subsided the more the people learned.”

“And right now we have established an emergency government.”, added Marius, “Enjolras and Javert try to work out how to rebuilt and make up for everything that has been done to the dragons and their companions. They try to come up with a new system for the realm.”

“What we are actually trying to establish is the question whether the people would like to live in a democracy or once again be ruled by a king.”, cut Enjolras in and his face clouded over, “And as sad as it is, the people seem to see Marius as their next sovereign and are very content with it.”

“Javert says that I should take the throne.”, said Marius quietly and sighed, frowning a little, “He says people always liked me a lot and that I could be their guiding light in these rough times. I'm... not so sure about that.”

“Again, as much as I hate to say this...”, muttered Enjolras and shot a reassuring glance to Marius, “... you would make a great king, if the realm insists on being reigned by a single man. And do not tell Grantaire that I said that because I wouldn't hear the end of it.”

“Deal.”, grinned Marius whose smile was so wide it nearly blinded Courfeyrac.

“And that's the end of it?”, asked Courfeyrac, looking to Marius, “You'll take the crown and reign?”

“If the people ask me to, I will.”, confirmed Marius and looked to Enjolras, “But in case this really happens, Enjolras has agreed to be my advisor and Javert volunteered to help me in everything I need help with. I will not be the only one with a say in the fate of the realm anymore. And as soon as you are better, I want you back in the game as well. I could not do this without you.”

“Sounds good to me.”, smiled Courfeyrac and rested his head back against the head board, a little tired and overwhelmed, “But please tell me I don't have to be a hunter again?”

“No.”, laughed Marius and pecked his forehead.

“We were more thinking of a position that's about securing the union of human and dragon. You could work closely with Grantaire and Cosette. The people trust you, surprisingly enough.”, said Enjolras and his eyes sparkled teasingly.

“Well...”, smiled Courfeyrac tiredly, “That's because I am a very likeable, intelligent and gorgeous person, oh Fearless Leader.”

Enjolras snorted and turned to Marius who laughed delighted: “I think he's too well already, maybe we should sedate him some more!”

Laughing, Marius shook his head and said: “By no means, I'm so happy we have him back after what Parnasse did to him.”

Silence stretched on for a moment, then Courfeyrac wrinkled his brows and asked carefully: “What happened to him?”

No one wanted to meet his eyes, no one but Artemis who was glaring intently at him and Courfeyrac suddenly had the feeling of a liquid taste of copper in his mouth. He gulped a little uncomfortable and looked to Enjolras who scratched the back of his head a little.

“Well...”, he sighed and shot a quick look to Artemis, “Let's just say your dragon took her task of guarding you a little too serious _and_ confirmed that citron parachutes are in fact really the most dangerous of dragons.”

Artemis puffed herself up a little more and sent a wave of affection and apologies towards Courfeyrac who was struck by raw pain and fear again as she recounted the moment that she saw Courfeyrac fall. He reached out and Artemis lowered her head over him to allow him to scratch her brow a little.

“I'm sorry, mon petit.”, said Courfeyrac under his breath and smiled when she scolded him for being an idiot about apologizing about being wounded. But at the same time she begged him to never do that to her again. He promised silently and kissed her snout tenderly.

When the dragon sat back down and Courfeyrac felt her affection just as strongly as his own cursing through his body, the room went quiet again. All the information he had gotten in these short moments were still all swirling through his mind and threatening to become overwhelming. All the things Courfeyrac had feared and the things he had fought against were suddenly things of the past, were over.

The suppressive reign of Marius' grandfather, the prejudice and fear against dragons, the policy of denying the people their happiness through spreading false doctrines and knowledge. It all had gone up in smoke while Courfeyrac had been unconscious. It was nearly too much to comprehend.

“And everyone is all right?”, asked Courfeyrac and looked at Enjolras who smiled a little and nodded.

“Yes, everyone is well in deed. Wounds can heal and scars will fade over time. We owe you our lives and I think all the others will be overjoyed to hear you're finally awake. Prouvaire had to be physically removed by Bahorel after sitting with you during the first day.”, declared Enjolras and reached forward to carefully and most awkwardly pat Courfeyrac's foot, “I'm happy too, by the way. And I think I never thanked you properly.”

“I'm too tired to receive a medal right now and I think I couldn't stand up long enough for your oratory speech either so let's just postpone that for a few days, all right?”, asked Courfeyrac whose throat had gone tight about the grateful glimmer in Enjolras' eyes and wanted to play the emotions down that were swirling through his heart.

“You're _such_ an idiot.”, smiled Enjolras and straightened up.

“I've been told so.”, smirked Courfeyrac back and turned his eyes to Combeferre then, hoping that he would finally react to him, talk or just look at him. But he kept staring to the ground, his face hard and pale.

“I think...”, said Marius quietly – following Courfeyrac's stare – and got up, ushering Artemis out of the way, “... we should let Courfeyrac get a little more rest. You don't wake everyday from being shot and survive that. Enjolras”, he turned to the blond man, “I think we should tell the others that Courfeyrac is up and awake. Artemis, you can tell the dragons.”

With that, he pushed Enjolras towards the door and Artemis left through the door to the balcony, the bed vibrating with every step she took. Combeferre turned as well to follow Marius but before he could leave the room, Marius pushed him back and said: “Oh, I think someone should stay with Courfeyrac, just in case. You don't mind, do you, Ferre?”

“Ehm... no, of course not.”, said Combeferre and Courfeyrac saw how his shoulders tensed a little while Marius smiled wide at the other man, winked at Courfeyrac and shut the door with a soft click.

Again: silence.

Courfeyrac wiggled a bit under the covers while Combeferre was still staring at the closed door. He cleared his throat then to end the awkward and tensed silence and asked: “And you are all right as well? You look battered!?”

Combeferre whirled around and Courfeyrac flinched back from the furious and hurt stare Combeferre bestowed upon him. From all the emotions Courfeyrac had expected to see, those were definitely not them. He bit his lower lip while Combeferre strode with wide, stomping steps to the bed and clutched the board between the posts at the foot-end of the bed until his knuckles had turned completely white.

“You ask if _I'm_ all right?”, he spat and Courfeyrac had to look away, his chest tightening about the fury in Combeferre's eyes and the anger in his voice, “Damn it, Courfeyrac! You nearly _died_ and you ask _me_ if I am all right? What were you thinking?!”

“I... I... ehm...”, stuttered Courfeyrac, for the first time in his life stuck for words.

Combeferre groaned, pushed himself off the bed and strode towards the still open balcony door, dragging his glasses – a new pair, as Courfeyrac recognized now – off his nose and rubbing at his eyes annoyed, hissing from pain when he stretched the stitching on his cheekbone a little too much. He remained at the door, staring out into the dawning morning without a further word for Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac's heart was beating double the speed it should and he was feeling panic clawing at his heart. He had never thought that gentle, calm Combeferre was capable of such anger and fury and he felt utterly helpless because he did not know how to react to that. He had thought Combeferre would be delighted to see him awake again, instead he seemed so furious and Courfeyrac could not imagine what he had done wrong to deserve this. He feared that Combeferre might call everything off, for a reason he didn't understand.

“I thought I had lost you.”

The words cut through the strained silence and Courfeyrac's head turned towards Combeferre again. He was still standing at the door, his arms crossed but his anger contained again. The only trace that was left of his outbreak was the tension in his shoulders and back.

Courfeyrac nestled his head back against the pillows and searched for something to say, too tired to fight but unable to send Combeferre away; of fear, if he sent him away now, Combeferre would never return to him.

But he did not need to say anything else because Combeferre went on: “When I saw that piece of shit knock you down on the clearing and his men drag you away, I thought I had lost you.”

“You stayed although I told you not to?”, asked Courfeyrac shocked, his head spinning through scenes where Combeferre had been discovered and beaten – or worse: killed – in front of his eyes.

“Of course I stayed!”, snapped Combeferre and turned around rapidly, “Do you think I ran and hid when you were in danger?”

“They could have caught you...”, murmured Courfeyrac and had to look away again, feeling worries and sadness about this fight claw at his heart.

“I would have gone with them _willingly_ if it had saved you from the things they did to you.”, said Combeferre quietly and the calmness that Courfeyrac knew and loved about him was returning to his voice.

Memories of the hours Courfeyrac had spent in the dungeons, Montparnasse's sly grin looming in the darkness, the smell of burnt flesh and the pain surfaced and he had to close his eyes, his face turning into a suffering mask of the torment he still felt, the mental pain that was following the physical sufferings of a torture. Hearing Combeferre tell him he would have taken his place was enough to bring tears to Courfeyrac's eyes.

He felt the mattress dent on his left side and opened his eyes when a soft, warm hand cupped his face gently. Combeferre was with him, was finally looking at him with something else than anger and the tears spilled from Courfeyrac's eyes about the worries and the pain he saw in Combeferre's face.

“I thought I had lost you when they took you.”, continued Combeferre and his thumb carefully ran over Courfeyrac's cheekbone while his free hand took Courfeyrac's that were folded on his stomach, “And that was worse than anything I could have imagined before. When they came for us, I was sure they had killed you to get the information. I thought you were gone from this world.”

“Combeferre...”, whimpered Courfeyrac and struggled to sit up but Combeferre just pushed him back gently, smiling through the tears that were welling in his eyes before blinking them down.

“Shush, let me finish.”, he ordered and Courfeyrac furrowed his eyebrows, his eyes begging Combeferre to stop talking like this because he got the idea why the man he loved had been so furious when he had started talking.

Combeferre smiled sadly and wiped away one tear that had slipped from his eye with the back of his hand. He sighed deeply and shook his head a little. Looking back at Courfeyrac, he continued finally: “I would have died without any regrets or fears on the scaffold that day because without you... god, why would I have wanted to live when you were...”

Courfeyrac was silently crying while he felt all his own fears, the whole agony he had hidden inside his heart during the hours he had planned the escape of the rebels echoed in Combeferre's eyes and words and it was nearly too much for him to take.

“And then you came.”, said Combeferre and laughed – a desperate, pained and sad sound, “You landed, riding that wild beast we had feared since she had first appeared. And you wore armour and you were shooting my crossbow and I thought I had already died because this could only be an archangel or some revenging spirit coming for me because I couldn't protect you.”

“Ferre...”, whimpered Courfeyrac and turned his hand to grasp Combeferre's. The other man smiled a little and raised their entwined fingers to press a gentle kiss to Courfeyrac's knuckles.

“I thought it a dream until hell broke loose.”, described Combeferre, staring at their hands while he closed his eyes to continue his account without looking at Courfeyrac, “You can't imagine... it was the hardest thing to stand on that scaffold, unable to free myself while I had to watch you fight guards and Javert and that Montparnasse. And I allowed myself to believe in a happy ending when the others were taking off, when the villagers fled and you came towards me.”

“But we have a happy ending, everything is all right, Combeferre, I'm fine and you are well and...”, began Courfeyrac stuttering, wanting to comfort Combeferre so much that it nearly pained him to be unable to move properly.

Combeferre cut him off with a soft voice while he lifted his eyes to Courfeyrac's: “But no one will ever be able to delete the memory from my mind how I held you in my arms while your breathing stopped.”

Courfeyrac felt like icy water was rushing over him and he physically felt how he paled to the roots of his hair. Combeferre turned a little from him, letting go off his hands and burying his face in his hands, not minding that his glasses would be completely smudged in the process. His hands muffled his voice a little.

“You were _dead_ and... and... I didn't know if you had heard what I told you. I didn't know if you... if you knew that I love you before you died. I lost you for the second time and I think I would have gone crazy if Joly and Cosette would not have been there.”, murmured Combeferre.

Courfeyrac did not know what to say. He had not thought that it had been such a close shave. Then Joly had probably reanimated him while Cosette had been there for Combeferre. He made a mental note to thank them and devote his every waking hour to make sure that those two were happy until the day they died. But right now, his priority lay with Combeferre.

He understood his fury now. He understood that the feeling of being helpless, of having no power over fate and of loosing the only thing that Combeferre seemed to care about made Combeferre desperate and angry. He understood because he had felt the seeds of that fury in himself as well. And he knew that they would never forget that feeling, no matter how much time would pass. But Courfeyrac also believed that together they could make sure to dampen it, to live through it, to eventually learn to live with that feeling that would make them stronger... Together.

The silence got unbearable and Courfeyrac knew that there was only one thing he could say: “I heard you.”

“What?”

Combeferre turned and looked confused at the younger man, smiling sadly at him, his tears still staining his cheeks.

Courfeyrac smiled even wider and confessed: “I heard every word you said. And I thought... when you told me that you love me...”

Combeferre was watching him enthralled, unable to say anything, but his hands shook in his lap while his lower lip wobbled from time to time.

“Ferre, I love you so much!”, gasped Courfeyrac a moment later and sat up, ignoring the pain it caused him and wrapped his arms around Combeferre's neck, breaching the distance between them and burying his face in the side of Combeferre's neck, his own breathing sounding strained to his own ears.

Combeferre hugged him back even as desperate, as clingy as Courfeyrac and pressed kiss after kiss into Courfeyrac's curls, shaking in Courfeyrac's arms, his pulse drumming fast and urgent against Courfeyrac's lips whenever he kissed his neck.

They clung to each other for a few moments and Combeferre kept repeating over and over how much he loved Courfeyrac and how much he had been afraid he would not survive and that he would never have been able to forgive himself.

After a moment, Courfeyrac leaned a little back, looking up with hope and longing in his eyes while he saw that Combeferre was smiling bitter-sweet at him, brushing hair out of his face and shaking his head over and over about something Courfeyrac could not understand.

“I love you.”, breathed Courfeyrac and giggled like a schoolboy, “Gosh, why haven't I said that earlier? I love you, Combeferre. I love you, I love you, I love you!”

Combeferre laughed delighted – all traces of agony, fear and hate gone from him – and drew Courfeyrac into a kiss.

His lips were soft on Courfeyrac, fond and careful and relishing, while his hands tightened around Courfeyrac's waist. Courfeyrac kissed him back, a little more desperate, a little more demanding and Combeferre chuckled into the kiss.

When they broke apart, Combeferre rested their foreheads together and sighed.

“There are so many things I want to ask you.”, he confessed after a moment and shook head head against Courfeyrac's, “I mean... Artemis...? And Valjean and Gavroche and how did you...?”

“Combeferre.”, smiled Courfeyrac and silenced him by pressing a finger against the other man's lips, “We'll have enough time for that later. Right now, I would really like you to come to bed with me.”

“I don't think this is a good idea considering your wounds and that you just barely...”, started Combeferre softly but was cut off by Courfeyrac who roared a laughter while collapsing back into bed.

Combeferre watched him startled while Courfeyrac winced a little from laughing so hard that his wounds started to hurt again and looked up at the other man then, a wide grin still in place.

“Not to have sex, you fool!”, grinned Courfeyrac but lifted the covers a little, “I'm astonished that you of all people would think something as absurd as _me_ wanting to have sex with _you_ in this _critical_ state.”

Combeferre rolled his eyes about the suggestive tone to Courfeyrac's words but smiled all the while.

“No, I'm just... drop dead tired and really need to get a little more sleep and I was wondering if you would maybe like to stay, you know?!”, asked Courfeyrac, feeling a little childish to ask Combeferre to stay with him in bed while he slept.

While Combeferre slid down into bed with him, wrapping him up carefully in his arms, kissing his hair, he murmured: “You talk too much, Darling.”

Courfeyrac just scoffed and nestled deeper into Combeferre's embrace, inhaling the pleasant smell that was so very Combeferre while pillowing his head onto the other man's chest. He closed his eyes and murmured: “You love that about me.”

“Maybe.”

“Ferre?”

“Hm?”

Courfeyrac pushed himself up on an elbow and looked at the other man. There was so much he wanted to tell him, how afraid he had been for him, how much he had blamed himself in the lonely hours in the dungeons, how furious he had been upon seeing him hurt and on the scaffold and how grateful he was that they had survived and could start again and be together until the end of things.

A small smile stole itself onto Courfeyrac's features while he cupped Combeferre's face and whispered the only words that seemed to encompass everything he felt and even more than that: “You are the world to me!”

Combeferre smiled so wide it seemed his face might split and leaned down to press a long, chaste kiss to Courfeyrac's forehead, unable to say anything through the tears his eyes were swimming in.

Courfeyrac smiled and settled down again, closing his eyes while the sturdy heartbeat of the man he loved lulled him back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's the end of the main plot for now. Next week I'm going to upload the Epilogue for you :)


	9. Epilogue

“Stop fidgeting!”, snapped Musichetta good-naturedly and slapped Courfeyrac's hand away.

“It's too tight!”, he groaned and tried dragging at the clasp of his uniform once more.

“Stop complaining! If I have to wear a corset for this occasion, you can bear that uniform!”, teased Musichetta and winked while she brushed one last time dust off Courfeyrac's lapels, “Besides, Combeferre will most likely drool all over the carpets if he sees you in this!”

Courfeyrac could not help but laughed delighted.

They were standing in the empty corridor leading to the throne room where the gathering had started already. As Enjolras had predicted – and probably feared – the people had decided that Marius should follow his grandfather onto the throne to reign the realm. His friend had accepted under the condition that a parliament would be established at the same time to reduce the power of the king and let the people reign alongside the king.

Courfeyrac was still not sure if that had been a wise decision but had told Marius that he was supporting him without complaint in everything his duty as king would call for. He had made the same promise to Enjolras who had been elected into the parliament as prime minister of the country.

Quite contrary to what Courfeyrac had expected, Enjolras had protested and fought with Marius and Javert for what had felt like years about not wanting that position but had finally given in as Marius told him that if he declined, Marius would also decline which would result in fights for the power among the remaining nobility of the realm and had probably brought more instability to the realm than it had done it any good.

So Marius was newly crowned King Marius the First of the Noble House of Pontmercy, Enjolras was the very first prime minister of the realm and Marius had appointed Javert to remain Lord Commander of the troops and military advisor to himself. Javert had seemed content about that development and had sworn to Marius to serve him loyal.

Since the days of the Great Battle for Freedom – as the fights in the castle were called now – about four months had passed. Peace had been restored in the realm and Grantaire, Bousset, Cosette and Éponine had been busy to spread true education about dragons. The fear and hostility towards the dragons had vanished completely and in the past three months, over three hundred people had been united with their companions.

Amongst them had been Marius as one of the first ones. His companion turned out to be the first free born fox snatcher to have hatched after the days of the Great Battle for Freedom – a beacon of hope for the rights of dragons and a sign for better and more liberal times to come. They had grown inseparable since they had found each other, although Libby – which was short for Liberté – had managed to set the canopy of the throne ablaze and had burnt off Bousset's eyebrows while sneezing – twice.

Marius had also decided to remodel the crest of his house. Had it shown two crossed swords and a twig of laurel before, the blue shield was now filled with the white form of a dragon, spreading its wings wide. Under the left wing, Marius had had a stylized castle and under the other wing a stylized plough – meaning that his house symbolized by the dragon would stand guard over the urban as well as the rural parts of his kingdom without favouring one.

Grantaire and Bousset had opened a chair for dragon lore and and science in the capital's academy and held public lectures and courses about the grooming and living with dragons. Bousset was a fabulous teacher and stuck more to the theoretical aspects, filling large lecture halls with countless students while Grantaire was giving courses about practical dragon care at the edges of the woods, surrounded by equally as many people as Bousset in the city. The distribution of tasks had not been deliberate after Bousset nearly beheaded himself in the fork of a tree during a lesson in dragon flight.

Syrah had completely recovered under the loving hands of Grantaire, Bousset and Musichetta although she had lost the sight on her right eye which also seem to influence Grantaire's right peripheral sight as he sometimes jumped when a person was approaching him from the right.

Courfeyrac had noticed that she was not leaving Grantaire's side since the incident and that Grantaire was almost always maintaining skin contact to his rough neck – be it through gentle caresses to her head or by at least pressing his leg against her side. The mental and physical torture both had had to endure during their separation – Grantaire believing that his dragon was in fact dead because she could not communicate with him on an emotional and spiritual level any longer – had left scars on both of them. But with the help of their friends, Enjolras, Ruby and Bousset, Courfeyrac was sure that they could soon be happy and content again.

Joly had also returned to the academy and had gotten permission to open up his very own hospital together with Musichetta – a hospital just for dragons and injuries inflicted by them. Quite contrary to Courfeyrac's suspicions – that the amounts of blood, germs and illnesses would probably drive Joly mad after the first few days – Joly loved his new work and was working harder each day. The young healer flourished in the small house given to him by Marius and was soon well known throughout the realm. Musichetta and her healing potions had a reputation of being magical soon after and her trade bloomed.

Combeferre had to be threatened with imprisonment to leave Courfeyrac's side in favour of finishing his training as a healer. Marius had insisted that he returned to the academy to train there – to become Marius' personal medicus. Reluctantly, Combeferre had agreed after Courfeyrac had pouted at him and blinked his huge, whisky-brown eyes with the most pleading mewl imaginable.

That had actually proven quite a mistake, as it turned out later. Combeferre dived headlong back into his studies and had sometimes to be dragged out of the academy by Bahorel or Feuilly as Courfeyrac was not allowed to leave the bed for about three weeks as the shot that grazed his left lung was healing only slowly. Combeferre would talk for hours about his lectures and the books he read, always that excited glint in his eyes that Courfeyrac had first seen in them when they had found Andromeda in that cave.

And although Courfeyrac understood only a fracture of what Combeferre was telling him, he gladly listened because he knew that it made Combeferre happy. And he could not ask for any more than that. Soon, Combeferre would be a fully trained healer, a respected medicus in the service of the young king and Courfeyrac was unbelievably proud of him.

The rest of the former rebels had also quickly found their place in the capital. Marius had appointed Bahorel to be the right hand of Javert, who had quickly taken a liking in the tall, burly young man who showed him fighting techniques involving riding a dragon or fighting alongside one. They made an almost terrifyingly efficient team and Courfeyrac had yet to find out if they unknowingly created a monster that would soon bore all of them to death with new methods and strategies.

Feuilly had found his place with the builders guild of the realm. His knowledge in emergency generators was highly interesting for the more conservative and traditional engineers and thus Feuilly became the leading specialist for electricity and generators, working feverishly on a plan to supply the whole of the castle and the city with electricity, not only the king's chambers. He also planned on supplying the rural areas which was a giant task in itself, but Courfeyrac was sure Feuilly would find a way.

Jehan was absolutely enthralled by the library and the gardens Marius had shown him after the fighting. The young man had almost begged Marius to be employed in the library where he spent his days cataloguing, sorting and assembling books by long forgotten authors, stories about long forgotten times and scrolls scribbled full of long forgotten languages. And while his mornings were spent at the library, Jehan liked to wander through the gardens during the afternoon, appointing gardeners to new tasks and sorting out which flower should grow with which plant.

He also spent most mornings in Courfeyrac's chambers before he had been allowed to leave his bed. He had read to him, had told him about the proceedings in the capital and had supplied him with news about their friends. Courfeyrac had never seen him so happy than in these few days and had not been able to not smile while Prouvaire was around him.

The tension and difficulties between Jehan, Feuilly and Bahorel had also disappeared after they had been freed. They were nearly inseparable during their leisure time and shared a few rooms with each other. Courfeyrac prided himself in matchmaking and received a fruit-basked from Feuilly as soon as he had found out that Courfeyrac was awake.

Éponine and Cosette had opened a house of shelter for those who still suffered from the loss of their dragons. Their number was huge but got smaller and smaller in comparison to the number of people who found their dragon in the months after the battle. While Éponine and Gavroche stayed in the house and worked almost non-stop with the unfortunate souls there, Cosette was commuting between the house and the castle as Marius and her had announced their engagement only weeks after the fight.

Enjolras might have ground his teeth a little about that rushed announcement and might have spoken the same threats to Marius than he had to Courfeyrac all those weeks ago – Marius made sure that there were never any spoons missing from the silver after Enjolras and he had had dinner together – but after a while he settled in content happiness and was actually looking forward to the wedding.

And so everyone had found their place in this new world and were content. And today was the day that Courfeyrac would also be appointed to his position.

Musichetta straightened his lapels once again, checking if everything was symmetrical and as it should be. Courfeyrac smiled a little and took her hands off of him, sensing that she was probably as nervous as Courfeyrac for Marius had not told anyone what his plans for Courfeyrac were – not even Cosette.

“Right.”, smiled Musichetta up at him and winked, “I'd better get in there, they'll ask you in soon.”

“See you then.”, smiled Courfeyrac while his guts tightened once more in nervousness.

Musichetta straightened to tiptoes, kissed his cheek and ducked through the great double-wing doors a moment later – not without smiling encouraging at him once more.

When Courfeyrac was alone, he started pacing back and forth a little. Artemis watched him a little annoyed and sent a wave of calm towards him that he blocked equally annoyed, glaring at her and letting her know that she was in with him no matter what happened and that she might as well be a little anxious about Marius' decision. Artemis just scoffed and reminded him that Marius appointed everyone to a position that suited them and that Courfeyrac should trust more in the abilities of his friend.

Courfeyrac just scowled at her. Marius had not told him what he had planned for Courfeyrac and although Courfeyrac trusted his friend with his life, he was anxious about what would be asked of him. He was well known for his open, friendly, passionate and boisterous nature but he was not sure if he was suited for an official role. The fall of the old realm had come off his position as First Hunter – even if that was a good thing in retrospective. Courfeyrac doubted that he would be better in another role. Maybe the fate of the realm was better given to men and women like Enjolras, Combeferre, Éponine and Cosette.

Again, Artemis scoffed and let him know that by gaining Combeferre's interest, Courfeyrac had proven that he was a good man and shouldn't worry about not being trustworthy. Courfeyrac just scowled again, telling her that that remained to be seen.

Creaking, the wide doors opened slowly and Courfeyrac hesitated in his steps, turning to the room in front of him. The ball room was filled to the brim with any person of quality that the realm held, an assembly of colourful robes, dresses and doublets, twinkling jewellery and extravagant hairdos. In days gone by, Courfeyrac had always marvelled in those things and had enjoyed displaying them himself. Now, everything seemed changed and Courfeyrac even found himself despising the pompous show of wealth while so many cruel things had happened by the command of these people in the past.

Taking a deep breath, his left side still tickling a little – a thing that would follow him throughout his whole life, of which he didn't know just then, of course – Courfeyrac straightened up and strode into the ball room. The heads of the people were turned towards him and followed his every step, while his left hand clutched the hilt of his sword, his jaws squared and his eyes fixed at the throne rostrum at the front.

Artemis fell into an easy step behind him, her warm breath ghosting over his neck. Courfeyrac did not need to turn and look at her while he effortlessly sent a waive of gratitude, apologies and love towards her, a thing that had seeped so effortlessly into his flesh and bones that it nearly came natural to him to communicate with her in that way after such a short time.

Marius was standing under the new canopy, in front of the newly crafted, much more humble throne and beamed at him. The golden circlet sat a little crooked in his always tousled, ginger curls and he stilled looked a little dressed up in the royal garments. The dark, velvety blue of the doublet made his skin look even fairer and his eyes even bluer while his fingers fumbled with the hilt of the ceremonial sword that was slung around his narrow hips.

Cosette was making every royal woman in the ball room look like an ugly toad. She wore a long, blue dress – of course matching Marius' doublet – and had a simple, plain hairdo that integrated the slender circlet into her lush curls. She was smiling so warmly at Courfeyrac that he could not help but smile back.

Libby and Romeo were framing the couple, looking proud and majestic as they watched over the gathering. Prokno was perching between Libby's ear-like horns and seemed pretty content. Courfeyrac wondered for a second whether Marius had finally understood what Éponine felt for him or whether he would be needed to have a word with his majesty about that.

The former rebels stood to the right of the rostrum, all looking very posh and polished in their official garments. Enjolras made an imposable figure in his crimson doublet, the blond curls wound into a pony-tail at the back of his neck, the waves cascading over one shoulder while his hand was clutching Grantaire's who looked well for once, not even bothering about the black uniform-like jacket he was wearing as a representative of the academy.

Courfeyrac could not dwell on looking at his friends – did not even have the time to look for Combeferre – as Marius raised his voice over the gathering once Courfeyrac had stopped in front of the stairs to the rostrum.

“My friends.”, smiled Marius, his voice carrying far and wide, a thing Courfeyrac was not used from his friend but found that the authority suited Marius very much, “Courfeyrac, today is the day I am finally able to show you the gratitude of the realm and my very own in front of our friends and the most noble representatives of the realm.”

Courfeyrac smiled and noted that Marius had mentioned their friends before the nobility, a thing that would probably raise bile in the throats of most nobles but brought an even broader grin to Courfeyrac's face.

“You were my whipping boy and I know you since I can remember. You served this realm as a loyal and generous servant ever since you were raised into official service. Under the reign of my grandfather, you were appointed First Hunter of the realm.”, carried Marius on while a grumble went through the assembly.

Courfeyrac dropped his head a little and stared at Marius' feet. He did not like to remember that title as well as he did not want to remember the deeds he had done in those days. The only thing of consolation to him was that this was a new era and that he was given a chance to do penance for the things he had done and commanded.

“Even during those days of lies and treachery against our people, you stood loyal at my side and you showed bravery in the face of danger and threat. You showed the will to learn and to better yourself. From the very start, you were eager to help and preserve, to increase the well-being of the people and to fight injustice and cruelty. You were also one of the few to pay a high price for your bravery and loyalty.”, carried Marius on.

The phantom pains that Courfeyrac sometimes suffered from while remembering – the twitching sensation of the blade in his shoulder, the pang where Babet's iron rod had burned him and the constricting feeling in his chest whenever he thought about the moment that bolt had struck him – came back and he had to take a deep breath to calm his heart-rate down. Cosette smiled soothing and Marius had a warm glow in his eyes while he looked at his childhood friend.

“Therefore, I, King Marius the First of the Noble House of Pontmercy, would like to bestow the highest honour of this realm upon you. I will raise you into the newly build rank of Premier Chevalier du Feu, the first knight of the dragon riders. You will be first defendant of the rights of our people and the rights of the dragons. You will command your own troops of dragon riders and secure peace and freedom in this realm.”, announced Marius proudly.

While the first hurray-s echoed through the crowd, Courfeyrac's heart was pounding in his throat. Marius looked so happy and confident that he could not help but feel proud to be entrusted to such a responsible position. His doubts were not completely gone but with the help of his friends and the trust of his king, Courfeyrac was sure to conquer whatever task set before him. The feeling of Artemis' pride and trust cursing through his veins lifted the weight even more off his shoulders.

“Moreover”, raised Marius his voice over the murmur of the crowd once more, “You will receive the golden Signe de Reconnaissance and the golden Laurels of Bravery that will show the world that I owe my life and my happiness to you. It will also mark you as one of the only ones in this kingdom who will ever have the right to renounce my decisions and keep me in check.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd and Courfeyrac felt how the hair at this neck stood up. This was a heavy burden Marius had placed on his shoulders. As Courfeyrac looked up to search the eyes of his friend, Marius smiled a little insecure, begging for forgiveness and help in equal parts. And for the first time ever since Courfeyrac had woken up, he thought about how terrified Marius must be. The hopes and dreams of all those people rested on his shoulders and he was nearly left alone with the responsibility thrust upon him. And because Courfeyrac loved Marius like a brother, he would be there for him and help him wherever he could.

Courfeyrac started smiling softly and nodded so subtle that it was nearly not to be seen. But Marius saw and exhaled relieved, reaching out to grab Courfeyrac's shoulder. In a low voice that was only heard by Courfeyrac, Cosette and Libby, Romeo and Artemis, Marius murmured: “Thank you so much for this. I know it's much to ask, but I couldn't imagine anyone else I would trust more in this.”

“Oh”, grinned Courfeyrac and winked, “Believe me, I could come up with a dozen names of people suited better to this than me, but that would take too long to sum up now so I might as well go along with it.”

Marius, who of course knew how to decipher this ironic commentary, smiled and said: “Thank you non the less. I really owe you.”

“You do.”, grinned Courfeyrac while Gavroche brought a small cushion forward on which lay the two medals that Marius had announced just then.

Gavroche grinned wide at Courfeyrac who winked while Marius fastened both medals to Courfeyrac's chest. The boy retrieved while Cosette stepped forward and kissed both of Courfeyrac's cheeks fondly, whispering between kisses: “I'll never be able to tell you how very... grateful I am for what you did for me... for Marius... for all of us!”

Courfeyrac wanted to reply that it had been no question for him and simply what he had to do, but Marius turned him around to face the crowd and called: “People of this realm, may I introduce: Courfeyrac, Premier Chevalier du Feu!”

The crowd dissolved into cheers, hats being flung into the air and hurray-s and shouts of his name filling the ball room. Courfeyrac blushed – he really had changed if something like this made him blush – and smiled a little awkward while round and round of applause branded through the people. Quickly, Courfeyrac stole a sidelong glance at his friends who were cheering the loudest of all.

Bahorel was throwing punch after punch into the air, hollering Courfeyrac's name at the top of his lungs while Feuilly clapped so rapidly that his hands might have come off any second. Jehan was smiling proud while Grantaire whistled on his fingers. Before Courfeyrac could see anything else, his attention was drawn by Marius exclaiming: “And now, friends, let the festivities begin!”

Soon, Courfeyrac found himself immersed in a crowd of well-wishers, congratulates and curious royalty who simply wanted to shake his hand. He bore the situation with a friendly grin and spared a few words for every one of them, even allowing some of the girls or older women to kiss both his cheeks in a display of overly excited gratitude.

Artemis did not leave his side during what Courfeyrac thought more torment than pleasure and even growled a little at people who were a little too demanding of Courfeyrac. He tried to scold her every time but of course she sensed that he was not being overly serious about it and huffed that little scoff of hers that resembled a delighted laugh.

After about ten minutes, the people retreated and Courfeyrac was able to breath freely. Looking around, he caught a glance of the group of his friends assembled in the corner by the buffet, toasting to each other, laughing and eating while feeding their dragons bits and pieces of the sweats.

Courfeyrac smiled pleased and looked up to Artemis who was watching the others as well. When she sensed his gaze, she looked down and cocked her head a little. Courfeyrac smiled broader and asked: “Care to join them?”

Artemis huffed again and wondered if this even was worth sacrificing breath for the questioning words. Courfeyrac nudged her shoulder and rolled his eyes, chuckling to himself while he made his way over to his friends.

“There he is!”, laughed Bahorel booming once he reached them and slung his arm around Courfeyrac's shoulders, shaking him a little while pushing a goblet filled with wine into his hands, “The hero of the realm!”

“To Courfeyrac!”, toasted Jehan and raised his goblet, followed by all the others, “Saviour of dragons, freer of the people and archangel saving our lives!”

“Geez, Jehan.”, chuckled Courfeyrac and quickly took a swig from his wine, “Spare those words for the chronicles!”

“Yes, you should.”, chuckled Éponine and nudged the lithe young man who was holding Feuilly's hand, “His head is already too big to fit through the door as it is, don't prompt it to get even bigger!”

Courfeyrac stuck his tongue out at her while the others laughed, even Enjolras who was not doing that often. His attention was drawn back to Bahorel who asked: “So, do you have any idea who will be on that special troop you're going to command?”

Courfeyrac looked up to him and quirked an eyebrow, smiling. He took another sip and answered: “Considering that smug grin of yours I'm fairly sure you'll be among them, won't you?”

“Lieutenant Bahorel, Deuxième Chevalier du Feu and right hand to you as appointed by his majesty Marius.”, grinned Bahorel and let go off Courfeyrac to bow to him.

Courfeyrac felt warm and content and patted Bahorel's shoulder friendly while he praised: “I couldn't imagine anyone else but you for that position. I'm glad I'm going to have you with me.”

“Aw, stop it!”, smiled Bahorel and threw a fake punch against Courfeyrac's chin, only nudging his head to the side a little with his knuckles, “You're going to make me blush!”

“Red suits you!”, smiled Jehan, made a step forward and rose to tiptoes, kissing Bahorel tenderly while his hand was still curled around Feuilly's who was smiling fondly at the pair of them.

Bahorel slung his arm around Jehan's shoulder and drew him tight while Feuilly and he exchanged a kiss over Jehan's head. Courfeyrac couldn't help but beam at them.

“Ew, gross!”, commented Grantaire ironically and took a sip of his wine.

Courfeyrac looked over to him and found that Grantaire's smile was a little strained and that he could not really meet the eyes of the newly appointed Premier Chevalier du Feu. Seeing the dark clouds over Grantaire's face, Courfeyrac turned to him and stepped forward, nudging him a little.

“What's wrong with you, Taire?”, he asked, aiming for a light hearted tone, “Is the wine not to your liking? I can get someone to bring you some whisky or scotch if you like as I seem to be the most important person in this realm after Marius.”

Grantaire – and Enjolras – scowled a little at him, though probably for different reasons. The dark haired man shook his head a little and took a sip from his goblet once more, huffing after gulping down the sip, his hand scratching Syrah between her horns.

“No, no, everything is fine, thank you!”, he muttered a little apprehensive and still did not look properly at Courfeyrac.

“Come now...”, said Courfeyrac a little reprimanding, “I sometimes might be a fool”, Éponine and Bahorel coughed exaggerated and earned a friendly scowl from Courfeyrac, “but I see when something's not right. Spit it out, Taire!”

“I just...”, started Grantaire and sighed deeply, setting his goblet down while Enjolras placed his hand on the small of his back, smiling encouraging at his lover, which seemed to give Grantaire the strength to go on, “I never properly thanked you. And I never apologized to you either.”

“Apologized?”, asked Courfeyrac a little startled and put his goblet down as well, “I don't understand. What for?”

Grantaire had buried one hand into his curls and scratched his scalp a little awkwardly, struggling to gather the right words, as it seemed. All of them gave him the time he needed and waited silently for what he wanted to say.

“I...I...”, stuttered Grantaire and sighed, then he raised his eyes to Courfeyrac's and huffed before continuing more securely, “I regret that I've been so harsh to you at times. I've been a suspicious prick and always thought the worst of you.”

“Taire, that's...”, started Courfeyrac but Grantaire just raised a hand and pleaded: “Please, let me finish.”

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow and nodded a little, Grantaire smiling grateful before continuing: “It's hard for me sometimes to... fully trust people and believe that their intentions are good. I tend to always see everything as black as the darkest hour of night. I'm a flawed man, I know that and sometimes I tent to project that on others. I just couldn't believe that you were the big-hearted, loud-mouthed, caring fucker you actually are.”

“Thanks...”, said Courfeyrac with a dubious grin, not sure if that actually was a compliment or not, “I guess.”

“I really like you.”, said Grantaire forcefully and reached out to grab Courfeyrac's shoulder, “And I am sorry that I doubted you and was suspicious about your motivations.”

"Yes, me too, Courf...", murmured Éponine from across the gathering and raised her goblet towards him in a salute.

“Thank you, Taire. And you too, Ponine. Although you didn't have to apologize, neither of you. I know that the situation was difficult.”, answered Courfeyrac and patted Grantaire's hand on his shoulder a little, smiling warmly.

“It was, but that's no excuse. I should have trusted more in Combeferre's ability of judging a character than rely on my own scepticism.”, smiled the shorter man and patted Courfeyrac's shoulder again before letting go.

“Speaking of...”, said Courfeyrac, acknowledging just then that a crucial part of this group was missing, “Where is he anyway?”

“Out on the balcony.”, said Joly and motioned with his chin towards the wide open stained glass doors, “He said he wanted to get a bit of fresh air. The smell of perfume was giving him a headache. I wonder if the excessive use of the perfumes could be harmful to ones health? Bousset, would you like to go on the balcony with me as well? I think... I feel a little bit faint all of a sudden.”

“Cut it out, love.”, laughed Musichetta, grabbed Joly's neck and dragged him down to kiss him thoroughly, earning a few wolf-whistles from Bahorel and Grantaire and a pout from Bousset. When she let go off a flustered but glowing Joly, she turned to Courfeyrac and suggested: “You should go and check on him. We'll man the fort as long as you're gone.”

“Thanks, Chetta.”, smiled Courfeyrac and winked at her while he and Artemis made their way over to the open doors. Before he could get out of the ball room though, a few people approached him to congratulate him and talk to him. Courfeyrac smiled through the conversations and was finally able to step out into the sunlight.

The autumn air was cool but not yet cold and tousled Courfeyrac's hair a little. He looked out into the sunlight and saw a familiar figure leaning against the handrail of the balcony. Parthenope had curled up at his side, her chin resting on the rail as well. Combeferre had propped himself up on one lower arm while his other hand scratched the scales at Parthenope's snout, one leg released of weight and the cap of his boot carefully hooked behind his right ankle. His hair shone in the sunlight and his broad shoulders looked good in the green uniform-jacket that marked him as a healer of the academy.

Courfeyrac stood and let his eyes roam for a while, soaking in every last inch of that view, attempting to burn it into his memory for everything seemed perfect in right that moment.

Parthenope was the first to acknowledge him. She raised her head from the handrail and looked over to him, producing the deep humming-purring-grumbling sound that Courfeyrac knew well by now which was echoed in Artemis, who trudged over and sat down next to the azur water breeder, pillowing her head onto Parthenope's shoulder who nudged her fondly with her snout.

Combeferre turned his head as well and upon seeing Courfeyrac, he turned around and leaned back against the handrail again, propping his elbows up on the forged steel and hooking his left foot around the right ankle and smiled fondly at Courfeyrac.

“Are you hiding from me?”, he asked and he strode casually towards Combeferre, smiling a little teasing at the taller man.

“No, only from those toffee-nosed, superstitious flash Harrys in there.”, gave Combeferre back and reached out to brush a stray curl out of Courfeyrac's eyes.

“Careful.”, smiled Courfeyrac and stepped towards Combeferre, nuzzling his face into the other's palm, “Those are your future clients, you should not aggravate them.”

“My only future client will be Marius. Those people...”, Combeferre gave back and shook his head with an annoyed huff.

“What? What is it?”, asked Courfeyrac and cocked his head while Combeferre turned towards the land unfolding beyond the balcony again, propping his elbows up once more and interlocking his fingers.

Courfeyrac turned as well, grasping the rail with both hands, sighing while the breeze brushed through his hair. He closed his eyes for a moment ant took a deep breath, waiting for Combeferre to explain himself.

“Those are still the same people who supported Gillenormand in his reign. The very same men and women who watched and tolerated the slaughter of so many dragons... the ruin of so many good people. I can't...”, Combeferre sighed deeply, “I can't believe that they will support Marius. I can't believe that things will change for the better.”

“Those people don't matter.”, said Courfeyrac quietly and turned to look at Combeferre, propping himself up on one elbow, “The people wanted Marius to be king. The merchants, the craftsmen, the agrarians... the simple people of this realm wanted Marius and the government. They elected Enjolras and therefore things _will_ change. They are just a few, but we are many!”

Combeferre looked at Courfeyrac for a long moment, a fond smile spreading over his face and growing wider and wider the longer he looked at Courfeyrac. Then he shook his head a little and asked: “After all we've been through, you are still able to be optimistic?”

“Yes, I am.”, chuckled Courfeyrac and winked, “Unless you want me to be a pessimist, I'd do that for you. In fact, I could go over to Taire right now and ask him for a few lessons in painting everything black.”

“Don't you dare! I love you just the way you are!”, laughed Combeferre and pushed himself off the railing while Courfeyrac made a few steps towards the open doors. He caught Courfeyrac around the waist and drew him back against himself, leaning against the rail, his hand on the hips of the shorter man, his eyes warm and fond.

Courfeyrac felt himself blush again – good grief what was going on with him? – while he placed his palms on Combeferre's chest and smiled up at him, caressing his lover's chest through the fabric of his clothing. He had to put his head into his neck a little to see into Combeferre's eyes but he did not mind as long as he was pressed against him, his warm hands on Courfeyrac's hips and his most fond smile bestowed on Courfeyrac.

“Are you happy?”, asked Combeferre quietly, his eyes switching between the eyes and the lips of the man in his arms.

Courfeyrac thought for a moment.

Not half a year ago, he had been a green youth without any knowledge of the world. A spoilt brat who thought he was superior to everyone and knew everything. How that had changed over the last few weeks!

He had learned that dragons were not the hostile, dangerous monsters who were feared and hunted by the realm. He had found his companion and had made friends with the most determined defendants of dragon rights, the rebels lead by Enjolras who had now risen to be a beacon of light and hope for a new future, a better future for everyone – human or dragon.

And, most importantly, Courfeyrac had met the person who seemed to be able to complete him, to grant him peace and make him feel worth more than just a pretty face and a witty tongue. That person that made him feel warm all over and made it possible for him to think that the future was bright and full of possibility. That man who had now his hands on Courfeyrac's hips and was watching him interested while the wheels were turning in his mind.

Courfeyrac smiled wide, rose to tiptoes and caught Combeferre's lips in a sweet, indulgent, slow kiss. This kiss was more than a simple show of affection, Courfeyrac wanted it to be a promise, a vow that would show Combeferre that they would be together, that Courfeyrac would never leave his side again and wanted to grow old with.

As he sunk down onto his heels again, he smiled full of love up at Combeferre and murmured: “ _Now_ I'm happy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, the end of You Can't Live Without the Fire.
> 
> I would like to thank you all for following this story so enthusistically and I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr, it's [bramblesforbreakfast](http://bramblesforbreakfast.tumblr.com/) there as well. I'll be happy to hear from you ;)


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